


Weathering The Storm

by sunflowersinmoscow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Multi, Rating May Change, Unreliable Narrator(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11735562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersinmoscow/pseuds/sunflowersinmoscow
Summary: Rohanne Baratheon is born a princess of the Seven Kingdoms, ten moons after the birth of her older brother Joffrey. As winter approaches and war breaks out, she chooses family - and with them, violence. She will go further and do worse things than she believed she was capable of; is it ever truly possible to go too far for those we love?





	1. Prologue 1: The Red Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A baby is born, and is in need of a name.
> 
> Cersei is reluctant, then optimistic - but her twin remains doubtful.

Cersei I

It was a freakishly hot day, more suited to Dorne than King’s Landing.

There was scarcely a cloud in the sky as the sun beat down mercilessly on the city. The smallfolk stayed indoors as best they could and those who could not avoid being outside treasured every moment they could spend in the shadows. Children swam naked in the bay, shrieking with laughter and those who walked barefoot hissed in pain as the heat in the cobbles threatened to burn their feet.

Inside the Red Keep, the heat was stifling. The dark colour of the bricks was unfortunate, as rather than deflecting the heat it absorbed it, causing the rooms and passageways near the outside walls to be thick with humidity. Only in the farthest depths of the castle was there relief, but unfortunately for the labouring mother she was not near any of these small refuges.

Cersei cried out in agony and one of the ladies attending her dabbed the sweat from her forehead with a cool cloth.

The queen’s chambers were located near the very top of the Red Keep and had a magnificent view of both the city below and the long stretch of the water to the horizon. This meant however, despite the numerous shutters and doors to her balcony that had long since been cast open to allow in some wind, that these rooms were at the mercy of the heatwave – just as the room’s occupants were.

“Things are progressing wonderfully, your grace. The head is free, only the shoulders remain to come!”

The words did nothing to relieve her but she gathered the last remaining strength in her body, clung to her twin brother’s hand tightly and pushed with all her might. Her blood seemed overheated but she powered through it, desperate to bring her child into the world. Another rush of pain between her legs was followed by a lusty wail from the babe and Cersei collapsed back on to the cushions gasping loudly.

She could vaguely hear Jaime’s voice mumbling something to her as he stroked her hand comfortingly, but she couldn’t process anything but the loud crying of her child.

She hadn’t meant to get with child so soon after Joff, but these things happened. The pain lanced between her legs as the maester inspected her but she couldn’t find it in herself to regret it.

“A healthy girl, your grace!” Pycelle cried out triumphantly, taking the baby from the midwife who had been sponging her clean.

A girl. A princess. She had done her duty and given the realm her golden son, and now the gods had seen fit to complement her darling boy with a little royal sister.

“Let me see her. Give her to me.” She said, struggling to sit up in the bed and ignoring the lingering aches.

She held out her arms and Pycelle placed the red, squalling infant in her arms. The girl settled slightly as if recognising her mother, but Cersei could barely see anything past the shock of wet dark hair on the girl’s tiny head.

It couldn’t be.

She stared in shock at the evidence that this was not a daughter born of the love she shared with her twin. This girl was her husband’s get, a Baratheon true.

She had been so careful, drinking moon tea whenever he chose to claim his husbandly rights. She had sworn after her firstborn boy, Steffon, had died so soon after his birth that she would never again give Robert Baratheon another child. Yet here was the proof, in the flesh, that against her best efforts she had broken that pledge.

Cersei looked up to her brother who remained loyal and loving at her side and saw the same dismay she felt reflected in his eyes.

* * *

 

Several hours after the birth she was rested and settled in her bed with fresh linen, her new little daughter in her arms.

Jaime had left soon afterwards, claiming to need to pass the word to the rest of the Kingsguard – but Cersei knew he just needed some time to move past his disappointment.

Disappointment that Cersei felt as well.

The baby was beautiful, she supposed. She had a head of downy black hair and unlike Joffrey when he was born, she was spared the wrinkled face of many new babes. Her eyes had barely opened but the quick glimpse that Cersei had gotten revealed eyes deep blue.

But she had been anticipating beauty of a different sort. She hadn’t been expecting the blond hair or emerald Lannister eyes yet, of course, but the immediate and undeniable proof that these things would never appear, that this child was never created out of love broke a small piece of her heart.

A knock on the door broke her out of her revere.

“Enter.” She called out quietly, but the babe did not stir.

One of Cersei’s ladies, a Lannister cousin by the name of Myielle, slipped quietly into the room, a fair-haired infant held comfortably on her hip.

“Apologies, your grace, but I thought perhaps you might like to see the little prince.”

The moment Joffrey spotted his mother across the room he threw out his arms towards her and began babbling loudly. A small smile crossed Cersei’s lips before she could hold it back and she nodded her assent for the woman to approach, despite the irritation at being interrupted.

Myielle placed Joffrey down comfortably on the bed next to her and stepped away from the bed to stand ready. Joffrey immediately tried to crawl closer to his mother as he usually did, but he seemed struck dumb when he noticed the small creature in her arms.

Cersei moved the babe’s shawl out of the way so that her son could see his younger sister’s face better. With her other arm, she held him around his waist and pulled him to sit on her knee.

“This is your little sister, Joff.” She said softly, stroking his back gently and watching his reaction.

He stayed in shock for only a moment more. He reached out a chubby little hand towards the sleeping baby and Cersei did not stop him, although she supervised carefully. Almost as if he knew to be careful, his hand slowed down until his fingertips rested on the baby’s soft cheek.

The new-born’s eyes opened just for a moment, and in that moment Cersei could have sworn that her two children looked into each other’s eyes.

Then her eyes fluttered shut. Joffrey looked up at his mother and began to babble again.

The moment had passed, but Cersei knew what she saw. Joffrey and her new daughter loved each other even now, and the reluctant love she had held for the girl since her birth enveloped her heart.

She ran her fingers through Joffrey’s fine hair and gave him a kiss on the forehead, before asking her lady to take him back to the nursery. The door shut once more, and she was left all alone with her only daughter.

She lifted the babe to her and bestowed a kiss to her forehead as well.

“You’re mine, sweetling. You may have your father’s blood running in your veins but in your heart and soul you shall be mine, just as Joff is.”

* * *

 

The small lights of the city below twinkled in the darkness. The heat of the day had melted away as quick as it came and the cool air of night blew in fresh off the sea. It was too dark to see the waves, but Cersei could faintly hear them crashing against the cliff below.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed yet.” Jaime drawled from behind her. She hadn’t heard him come in.

His presence appeared behind her and she relaxed back against his chest. One of his hands rested gently on her hip and the other covered her hand where it was resting on the terrace.

She sighed softly and allowed him to steer her away from the night sky and back into her bedchamber. He didn’t let go again until she was settled back under her bedcovers, and then he sat with one leg up on the end of her bed, his arms crossed.

“I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. I feel like I am going mad.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You gave birth less than half a day ago. Hardly long enough to drive you to madness.” He said, the corner of his lips twitching.

“You should try it then, see how little you care for it.”

“Childbirth? No thank you.” Cersei sighed in exasperation.

“Bedrest, you fool. I guarantee you would be planning an escape within the hour.” Jaime inclined his head and the twitch became a full-blown smirk.

“You’re probably right.” He granted her, and chuckled when she sniffed.

“I usually am.”

Silence fell for a moment, before Jaime spoke again. He wasn’t an unsure man, but his words were hesitant.

“Where is the child?”

Cersei turned her full attention on him, but couldn’t see anything else in his eyes behind his clumsy attempts at being delicate.

“My daughter is with the wet-nurse, brother.”

“His daughter, you mean.” Jaime said it quickly, but Cersei could recognise the smallest hint of resentment in his voice. She had understood, before.

“No. My daughter. She might be his blood, but she is mine too. Ours too.”

He seemed surprised, but shook his head.

“She is not mine, Cersei.” He said and she could see the downturn of his mouth.

“She is mine, and that makes her yours. Aren’t we one heart, one soul? That makes you her parent just as much as me. And in the eyes of the realm, she is your niece.”

Her voice grew hard towards the end, and she knew she had his full attention as she continued.

“You may not be her blood father, but do you really believe that I am going to let that pig have her? Never. She is mine, yours, she is a Lannister in a doe’s skin and she will know that in her heart before I ever let her go.” She whispered.

She looked down at her hands as they wrung on her lap and then back up to her brother’s green eyes, identical to her own.

“Joffrey will be king but she will have the heart of a queen. Nothing will be withheld from her and nothing will be taken from her. If they say she can’t have it, she will take it and may the Seven have mercy on those who try to stop her, because I won’t. That stag blood in her veins will feed the lion inside her and the fury she was born with will make her the most ferocious lioness of them all.”

Her words were words borne from the underlying hatred of Robert and her love for her family - but she meant every word. There was a power to what she was saying, because Cersei Lannister loved her children more than she loved herself. More than she loved her family and just as much as she loved her twin.

Her formidable speech left a hole and for a moment there was silence, until Jaime laughed slightly. It was his usual flippant laugh, but Cersei heard an undertone that made her think her words had the effect she desired.

“She’ll need one hell of a name to live up to such a destiny.” Jaime said simply, but his smile was warm and she felt like she might have won something today.

“Any suggestions?” She asked, not truly expecting an answer but she was pleasantly surprised when he ran a finger along his chin and hummed.

“I assume you want a Lannister name?”

Cersei smirked. “Would any other do?”

“True. I’ll give it some thought sister, that is, if you would like me to?” He said calmly. His eyes betrayed his uncertainty as they darted away and then back.

She reached forward and laced her fingers together with his. She squeezed gently.

“I would. But do not dally brother; our daughter needs a name.”

* * *

 

It had been three days since the birth, but Jaime was being reticent. He said he wanted to wait until her husband returned, to ensure that he wouldn’t just name the girl himself and ruin it all – but Cersei knew better. Jaime didn’t care a whit what Robert thought, he just hadn’t decided himself yet. She hoped he let her know soon, but she was willing to let him have his fun. It had been so long since he had felt comfortable teasing her like this, like the way they used to be before she was married. She hadn’t seen this kind, playful side of her twin in far too long. They were only just twenty-two namedays, after all – hardly considered old by any count.

Cersei knew that the hunt had returned early that morning. Robert had sent word that he would be to see the baby just after the midday meal. It could be one of his rare attempts at being considerate of her, but it was more than likely he just wanted to rest after his hunt.

The feeling of acute dislike she felt when she thought of her husband flared just as her daughter released her nipple with a gentle pop. Cersei made herself presentable once more and then threw a piece of cloth over her shoulder and held the baby up to herself and rubbed her back firmly.

She could call one of her ladies or the nursemaid to do this. She probably should, being the queen. Queens did not lower themselves to do such menial tasks. Yet Cersei considered herself a mother and a queen, and this was the prerogative of mothers. Her babe finally burped and spat up a spot of milk onto the cloth, so she wiped her tiny mouth and settle her back into her arms.

The door opened without a knock and Cersei composed herself.

Robert entered with all of his usual grace, at least having the decency to catch the door before it slammed off the stone wall.

He looked over her only for a moment before focusing on the tiny bundle she held.

“It’s a lass then?”

His face was blank, yet Cersei did not think he was displeased. He rarely made the effort of hiding his feelings.

“Yes, your grace. You have a daughter.”

She sat up straighter and invited him to sit on the bed beside her. He did so slowly, and took hold of the girl when she offered her to him. She looked tiny in Robert’s large hands. Cersei was not afraid for her. Robert was many things but he had always been gentle with Joffrey and she couldn’t seem him being any different now.

He brushed a callused thumb over her tiny nose and through her thick hair (which the maester had confided would likely fall out, but was still an indicator of its future colour) before his eyes crinkled and a huge grin spread across his face.

“She’s a little beauty, right enough. Look at that hair!” He said loudly, his voice gruff but the words sweet.

He ran his fingers through it again and seemed enthralled when she gave what sounded like a little growl. A whimper followed, then a whine and within a moment she began to howl.

All Robert did was laugh again.

“And there’s that Baratheon fury!” His voice seemed to boom in the small room and he handed the baby back to Cersei who began to rock her gently and shush her.

Baratheon fury wasn’t the thought that went through Cersei’s mind when she heard her daughter cry, not even the very first time after the girl had been pushed from between her legs and she was screaming with all the strength in her unused lungs.

_Hear me roar._

“Does she have a name yet? Perhaps… Lyanna-“

“No.” Cersei snapped immediately.

Over her dead body would that name be inflicted upon her more than it already was. She was in no need of the reminder that her kingly husband loved a woman-child corpse more than the warm, soft, living woman he married.

Robert’s face turned stormy as it tended to do whenever she displeased him.

“Cersei-“

“No. Let me name her, please, husband. I shall give her a name worthy of her house. Worthy of a princess. You did say you would consider allowing me this should it be a girl, when we last spoke.” She pleaded lowly.

Her pride stung sharply at having to plead for his permission, as if she needed his word to be able to give her daughter a name. But she wanted, no she needed, for Jaime to be the one. He had to name her.

Robert’s face remained clouded and when his teeth gritted she felt her heart as it sank in her chest.

Damn him, damn him to the seven-

“Fine. But you’re not to name her Joanna, Cersei. I won’t let my daughter have a damned Lannister name.” He said, his tone harsh but unapologetic.

A rush of poison rose to her lips and she was only barely able to stop herself from firing it all at him. He dared to speak ill of her beloved mother? There was no one on this earth she would allow that liberty, not even this whoring drunkard of a king-

The baby growled again in her arms and she allowed her little cub to suck the sting from her words.

“Of course, husband. Thank you.”

Robert grunted and stood up from the bed. He stopped at the door and gave her a nod. She wondered if it was supposed to be in respect or gratitude.

“You’ve done well, Cersei. She’ll make a fine princess.”

He shut the door behind him before she could reply and she had to resist the urge to throw something after him. Oaf.

* * *

 

It was just before supper when Jaime finally came to her. He looked far too pleased with himself as he took in Cersei and the baby sitting on the cushioned chair by the hearth.

“You took your time, brother. Have you decided yet or will she be grown before you see fit to name her?”

Cersei allowed her words to be sharp, but to her frustration his only reply was to chuckle.

“Don’t be so overdramatic, dear sister.” He said as he sat on the chair opposite her. He wasn’t wearing his white Kingsguard cloak or his armour, so she assumed he was not currently on duty.

“I’ve made a decision.” He continued. “… Can I hold her?”

Cersei looked at him from a moment before she nodded and passed the babe over. The little princess didn’t stir from her sleep as she snuggled into his arms, the warmth of his body through his velvet doublet soothing. He looked down at the baby intently before running one long finger down the bridge of her nose and across her lips. He seemed unable to move as she shifted in his arms. She soon settled again and Cersei studied him as he brought his burden up to his lips and whispered something she couldn’t hear into the tiny girl’s ear.

He caught Cersei looking at him and grinned.

“My apologies, sister. Some secrets have to be kept from mother, isn’t that right little one?” He spoke the last part to the babe and waited for a moment as if expecting an answer.

None was forthcoming, but he continued regardless.

“I’ll be honest, I have narrowed it down to three.”

Cersei rolled her eyes, something she did far too often in the presence of her twin.

“You are testing my patience, Jaime.”

“The first is Joanna.” He said the name with reverence, much the way she did.

The memory of their mother would always be strong for the both of them. She had been the one person they loved as much as they loved each other and they had lost her too soon. Seven years old was entirely too young to lose a mother.

Cersei appreciated the thought behind the suggestion because she knew Jaime would always respect mother as much as herself.

“Robert explicitly told me I wasn’t to name her Joanna. He refuses to let her have a Lannister name.”

“To the seven hells with Robert, Cersei. What did he want for her? Cassana after his mother no doubt.” Jaime spat, his scowl fierce.

“He wanted Lyanna.”

Jaime’s face turned puce and his lips turned up in a snarl.

“How _dare_ he. How dare he insult you like that! He refuses mother’s name but asks you to name her after the woman who destroyed half the realm? The woman whose name he pants out every night with you like a wounded animal?”

Cersei agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment but their baby was starting to sense her uncle’s unhappiness and she decided to calm things down.

“He didn’t insist on it, I saw to that. He allowed me to name her on the condition it wasn’t Joanna.”

Jaime’s rage took a while to simmer down but eventually he managed it. He ran a finger lightly across his niece’s feathery hair again and it seemed to calm him further.

“The next one I thought of was Alysanne. I assume you don’t want to name her after someone still living.”

Cersei frowned. The only Alysanne in their family was-

“Alysanne Farman. Our great-grandfather’s wife.”

Cersei hummed in thought.

“The first one. She gave him no children and lived a thoroughly unremarkable life before dying of fever.”

Jaime sighed. “If you dislike it Cersei, all you have to do is say so.”

“You were the one who said she would need a name worthy of her. The only Alysanne who has ever done anything remarkable is Good Queen Alysanne and I refuse to name my daughter after a Targaryen. Not only does it bode ill, Robert would have a fit.”

Jaime scoffed.

“Suddenly you care what Robert thinks?”

She shot him a toxic look.

“Of course I don’t. You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” She hissed.

He threw up one hand in mock surrender and she let it go, not before throwing him another vicious glance.

“I suppose that leaves the last name then. I didn’t actually think you would refuse the first two.”

Cersei gave him a warning glance.

“What’s wrong with the last one?”

Jaime stood up slowly and walked over to her side. He knelt slowly on the floor beside her and offered the baby up. She took her slowly into her arms, Jaime tracing her features one last time before he looked up at his twin and smiled.

“Sister, I’d like to introduce you to Rohanne Baratheon, princess of the seven kingdoms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weathering The Storm: rife with unreliable narrators, changing circumstances and one small baby who has no idea exactly what is coming. Fair warning; how any one characters feels and acts at the moment they are written is subject to change. They might very well change their mind or opinion as time progresses.


	2. Prologue 2: Stick Them With The Pointy End... Or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime loves the children dearly, especially the newest little princess Myrcella - but Cersei is pulling away.

Jaime I

Jaime had twenty-seven years to his name when Cersei decided she wanted another child.

Joffrey and Rohanne had six and five years respectively, and Cersei was beginning to miss having a babe in arms. The two oldest no longer needed their mother nearly as much as they used to, Joffrey having developed a keen streak of independence and Rohanne following her older brother’s example.

It wasn’t uncommon to hear the happy screams of children as the siblings ran amok around the Red Keep, terrorising maids and nobles alike. Cersei and the children’s septa did their best to get them to behave, but it was a rare thing indeed if they managed it.

That’s not to say that they didn’t respect their mother.

Jaime had never seen two children – not that he saw many other children, in truth – that adored their mother as much as Joffrey and Rohanne did. They clung to her every word as if she hung the stars and would follow her around like ducklings all day if she allowed them to.

None of that changed as they grew, of course, but at six years Joffrey was beginning to disdain his mother’s bedtime stories and her embraces – encouraged by Robert.

“You coddle the boy, Cersei! He’s the future king not a lackwit!” He had roared in the throne room once after Joffrey had fallen and sought his mother’s comfort.

Cersei had given him a baleful glare but the damage had been done. Joffrey no longer enjoyed her hugs as he once did and out of solidarity Rohanne copied her brother.

Not for the first time, Jaime thought that if Rohanne had taken entirely after her mother she and Joffrey could have passed as twins. Yet, to Jaime’s secret satisfaction, it was only Rohanne’s sleek black curls that made her stand out. When she was around eight moons old, her deep blue eyes began to change. By the time she was almost two years old, it was accepted that her eyes would remain the colour they had turned – the vivid green of her mother.

Cersei had been delighted, as had he. It had taken Robert a great while longer to notice the change and he had barely reacted beyond a grunt. His fascination with Rohanne had faded just as rapidly as it had with Joffrey until he interacted with her only when necessary or when he was feeling paternal, as rare as that was. Rohanne did not seem to notice this change, as she couldn’t remember a time when her father had been anything but a hairy man she saw on occasion and who sometimes gave her a pat on the head.

It gave Jaime a great deal of personal satisfaction to know that of the two men, he was Joffrey and Rohanne’s favourite.

“Nuncle!”

“Uncle Jaime!”

Two small voices shouted as he turned around the corner and he barely had time to crouch and open his arms before he was accosted by two equally small bodies.

“If it isn’t my favourite prince and princess! How are you today?”

Joffrey grinned widely, showing off the gap in his front teeth.

“Look I lost a tooth! I’ll get grownup ones now!”

Jaime looked closer in mock confusion.

“I could have sworn that tooth wasn’t ready to come out yesterday, Joff.”

Joffrey opened his mouth to speak but Rohanne interrupted.

“I helped nuncle!” She grinned too but cried out in childish anger when Joffrey pushed her.

“No you didn’t!”

“Yes I did! You couldn’t get it out so I helped!”

Jaime saw the scowl form of Joffrey’s face and decided to head it off.

“How did you manage to help, Rohanne? Teeth normally fall out by themselves.”

“I hit him like he asked me to!” She said, her eyes closed as she smiled widely.

Jaime thought she looked entirely too proud of that fact and turned to Joffrey.

“Did you ask her to hit you?”

Joffrey pouted and mumbled something. Jaime cleared his throat and Joffrey spoke again, louder, with a blush growing across his face.

“Uh, maybe. But I don’t think it helped! It would have come out by itself.”

Rohanne rolled her eyes in an overexaggerated way.

“Yes, but I helped it come out faster!”

Sensing another argument starting, Jaime decided to end it.

“Rohanne, you shouldn’t hit your brother, even if he asks you to. Joffrey, don’t ask your sister to hit you, no matter the reason. Do you two understand?”

They both looked ready to argue but when he raised his eyebrows they both gave in.

“Yes uncle.” They chorused, looking at each other as they did.

Jaime stood up and allowed Rohanne to take his hand. Joffrey ran ahead a bit, gesturing for them both to follow.

“Mother isn’t well, nuncle. I think the baby in her belly is coming out.” Rohanne said, clutching onto Jaime’s hand tightly.

“Stupid! The baby isn’t in her belly Rohanne.” Joffrey said, his nose in the air with all typical tone of a child who is certain he knows about these things.

Rohanne frowned.

“Yes it is, Joffy. Father told me so. That’s why it got so big.” She said, looking up at Jaime in confusion, asking him to confirm her statement.

Jaime nodded, silently praying this is as far as this conversation would go.

“But that doesn’t make sense. How did it get in there? And how does it come out if it’s so big.” Joffrey said, stopping his walk ahead of them and turning back to stand in front of Jaime.

Both children looked up at him, waiting, and he cursed to himself.

“Your father planted a seed inside your mother’s belly. The seed grows into a baby and then the baby comes out. That’s why your mother’s belly got bigger and bigger as the baby grew.”

Rohanne’s intent gaze relaxed – this seemed enough for her. But Joffrey’s nose remained crinkled.

“But how did father put the seed in there? How does the baby come out without hurting mother?” Joffrey said, his voice getting louder as they turned around another corner.

The sight of the child’s septa standing stiffly but patiently outside of the queen’s chamber was a welcome relief for Jaime. He shooed the children towards her.

“You should ask your septa. I’m sure she would be perfectly willing to answer all of your questions Joff. I have to see to your mother now.”

Joffrey seemed off put and unsatisfied, but he joined in when Rohanne wished him a cheerful farewell and to pass her love to her mother.

Jaime knew that the children’s septa would answer no such questions, but it was highly likely that she was better fending off their curiosity than he was. They were too young to be wondering about such matters.

He returned their waving and entered Cersei’s chambers just as a maid was rushing out with orders to fetch the maester. Robert was no doubt already leaving on his traditional hunt. By this point, they no longer bothered even trying to keep Jaime out of the birthing chamber.

He was greeted by Cersei’s harsh panting.

“Breathe easy, sweet sister. I’m here.”

* * *

 

Myrcella was a sweet little thing, all rosy cheeks and fine light hair.

Jaime knew without a doubt that this child was his, but the visible reminder was always welcome. He and Cersei had planned it all down to the smallest detail when they had both agreed she would have another babe.

She had stopped taking regular doses of moon tea when Robert had stopped sharing her bed regularly, but she had been careful to avoid becoming with child in the years after Rohanne. She didn’t regret either of the children but having Rohanne so soon after Joffrey had been exhausting for her. After they decided together to conceive again, she stopped all moon tea and made sure to wake up in Robert’s bed in the mornings when he had been drinking particularly heavily.

The great fool didn’t seem to question it at all, assuming he had simply claimed his marital rights as a husband while in his cups, as he tried to avoid while sober due to the cold nature of his wife.

Jaime was grateful that Robert had given up any attempts to placate Cersei, though he loathed standing guard and having to listen as the king dishonoured his sister with the scores of whores that came and went.

As it was, there was no question in Robert’s mind that the blonde little princess was his own, taking after her Lannister mother. Jaime would love nothing more than to claim his children as his own and truly earn his moniker of Kingslayer, but in this way, they were kept safe. Like this, they were princes and princesses of the realm, the highest of the nobility – and while Robert’s position as their ‘father’ irked him greatly, he wouldn’t jeopardise their safety for his pride.

Never, he thought, as he smoothed his hand over Myrcella’s little head. She was smaller than Rohanne had been, but just as beautiful, if not more so. She looked the image of her mother in a tiny baby, a small and precious gift from the gods.

“Give her back to me, brother.” Cersei said from her seat across the table.

Her arms extended and she raised her eyebrows expectantly. Jaime reluctantly handed over his newborn daughter to her mother. Cersei held her protectively to her chest after ensuring she was wrapped up well.

“Peace, sister. There’s no one here.”

It was true. They were sitting quietly in the nursery suite, the children fast asleep in their small beds in another room and the wet-nurse who fed Myrcella during the night was fetching her supper from the kitchens. Jaime had slipped into the nursery just after the woman had left, taking the chance to spend some time with his sister and their new daughter.

He loved his sister dearly, but over the past few years she had become increasingly concerned about how close he was to the children. She was frightened of Robert’s reaction, scared of any conclusions he might reach if his blood was up – conclusions that might ring too close to the truth.

Jaime had tried to convince her there was no cause for fear – Robert was an unobservant fool. If he hadn’t discovered the close relationship he shared with his sister, he was unlikely to realise that two of the three children weren’t his. In a way, Jaime was thankful that Rohanne had been born when she was. Her dark hair threw off suspicion from Joffrey and Myrcella – it may be hard to believe that Robert Baratheon fathered only golden-haired children, but a child who resembled him and the others who resembled their mother? It happened in families all over the land.

Cersei did not feel this blindness on Robert’s behalf was worth risking their and their children’s lives, however, and had all but demanded him to spend less time with the children.

He had tried to understand, he did. Bitterness was not something he had ever truly felt towards Cersei before – but her determination to deny him the children hurt more than he ever thought it could.

When he was given the chance to steal in and spend some time with his loved ones, he wasn’t pleased to be met with rejection.

“I do not care, brother. I won’t risk Robert hurting them.” She whispered sharply, curling her hands tighter around Myrcella.

“He suspects nothing! You know he’s blind to everything that doesn’t have two tits and open legs.” Jaime said derisively.

Cersei didn’t reply, but Jaime did not think he had convinced her one bit.

“How is she?” He gestured to the baby.

His sister’s eyes lightened and she took a deep breath. Her shoulders were less tense now and she relaxed back into the chair.

“She’s a sweet babe. Not nearly as loud as Rohanne or as demanding as Joff. I nearly forget she’s here sometimes until she cries. This one is a born lady.” Cersei said before pressing a fond kiss to Myrcella’s cheek.

“A kind little princess then.” Jaime said before changing the subject.

“Do you know what I found Rohanne doing today?”

Cersei rolled her eyes. “Following Joff and causing mischief, no doubt.”

He shook his head. “Surprisingly no. She was pestering Ser Mandon as he stood outside their playroom. Asking to see his sword.”

Cersei looked up from Myrcella to him and raised an eyebrow.

“He didn’t show it to her, did he?”

Jaime shook his head and smirked. “No, but I think she was about to try to order him. I’ve never seen that man’s eyes look so relieved when I took her back to Joff.”

Cersei shook her head in what Jaime knew was fond exasperation.

“I never know what to make of that girl. For a moment, I am certain that she’ll make the perfect lady, and then I find her asking to see swords and trying to fit into armour. At least Joff behaves like a proper prince.”

“It’s just harmless curiosity, Cersei. The only playmate she has is Joffrey, of course she is going to imitate him in some ways.”

Cersei sighed while shifting Myrcella from one arm to the other gently.

“Perhaps I should send for a cousin as a companion for her. She needs another girl to play with… Myrcella is too young…” She trailed off.

“What she needs,” Jaime interrupted, “is to get it out of her system. Let her play around with toy swords for a while.”

“As I recall, dear brother, I did the same thing, and all it did was make me want it more. Gods, I hated father for stopping my swords lessons. I found it so unfair that you got to play with them and I couldn’t only because I was a girl. I was better than you, but because I didn’t have a cock between my legs I was forbidden from handling a blade.” Cersei said, a wry smile on her lips.

He knew that a part of her was still bitter about it, even now.

“I don’t want that for her Jaime. I don’t want her to have something she wants torn from her grasp because she was born a girl. I don’t want her to resent her brother for getting to do something she isn’t allowed to. He’s already started to learn.”

Jaime was silent for a moment. “Then let her.”

Cersei cocked an eyebrow and her lips twisted.

“I’m serious! The only reason you never got to learn was because everyone was too damned scared of father to disobey him. Even if Robert forbade it, there’s one person here who is perfectly willing to do it anyway.”

“And who would that be?” She asked, reaching out for the glass of water on the table.

“Me.”

She swallowed her water and exhaled slowly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Perfectly. Let me teach her, even if it’s only one small lesson. She may not even care for it. But if she does, we can continue, in secret. She is a princess after all and she may grow into a beauty. This world is dangerous for beautiful princesses.”

Neither of them said her name, but both were thinking of Elia Martell.

“She’ll have guards, Jaime, perhaps a sworn sword-“

“Neither of which will protect her from her husband.”

Jaime could see Cersei’s argument die on her lips as her eyes darkened and he knew he had convinced her.

Rohanne was young now but she would grow. Grow until she flowered and then she would be married off to whichever house her father desired. There would be no one there with her best interests at heart, no one there to protect her should her husband be cruel or careless, no family.

When that time came, neither he nor Cersei would be there to protect her. She would have to protect herself, and Jaime would see her armed with the best defences. She was a Lannister and Lannisters must never be weak.

“She’s only five.” Cersei whispered.

“Yes. Better we start early.”

* * *

 

“Hello, nuncle. Would you like some tea?” Rohanne said, pouring some water out of her toy teapot into a small cup.

Her hands shook with the weight of the teapot but she continued valiantly until she had served them both.

“Yes, I would, thank you.” Jaime replied, lifting his cup to his mouth and taking a sip of the lemon water no doubt pilfered from a maid.

“Delicious. You are an excellent hostess, Princess Rohanne.”

Rohanne beamed in response and gave a clumsy curtsy in her pale blue dress. Her black hair was pinned back into a small plait and she had a small ruby gold pendant her mother had given her on her nameday tied around her neck, which she wore at every opportunity. Jaime suspected it made her feel grown up.

She climbed into the chair opposite him with only a little difficulty and sipped on her own cup.

“Thank you very much, Ser Jaime.” She said, stumbling over his name but finishing proudly. “You asked me for an au-audance?”

Jaime inclined his head politely. “Yes, princess, I did ask you for an audience. How kind of you to make time for me.”

Rohanne beamed at him again and giggled. He smirked back. She seemed to enjoy all of the courtesies now, but he had a feeling she might grow tired of them soon enough.

“Please tell me what I can do for you, Ser Jaime.” She said, small fingers picking at the lace on her dress betraying her impatience.

“Well, princess, it’s more about what I can do for you.”

That seemed to get her attention. Her eyes grew wide and her lips twitched excitedly. All of her manners were quickly forgotten.

“What is it, nuncle, what is it?”

“I was wondering if you would like to see my sword?”

Rohanne stared at him, slack-jawed, before she quickly gathered her wits.

“Really? Oh yes, yes please!”

She was positively bouncing in her seat as he stood up and when he unsheathed his sword from the scabbard he kept at his waist, she froze at the metallic swish sound. He lay his sword gently on the table in front of her, catching her small hand as she reached out immediately to touch it.

“Be very careful, Rohanne. It’s very sharp and could easily slice off your fingers by accident.”

She gasped quietly and retracted her hand quickly but her gaze remained fixed on the blade.

“You can touch the flat part, see?” He guided her hand slowly to the fuller and ran her fingers along it.

“It’s cold.” She whispered, running her fingers back and forth herself now that Jaime was sure she wouldn’t catch the edge by accident.

Rohanne leaned forward slightly.

“The edge looks very sharp, nuncle.”

“It is. What do you think of it?” He asked as she looked up at him. Her brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you like it?”

“… I suppose so? It’s pretty.”

Jaime chuckled. “Swords aren’t supposed to be pretty, Rohanne, but I know what you mean. It is very shiny.”

She frowned. “What are swords for then? If they’re not supposed to be pretty?”

“People have swords so that they can protect themselves or their family.” He said, comprehension beginning to dawn on him.

“But how? How does a sword protect people? Joffy says that swords are meant to hurt people but I told him that you have a sword and you would never hurt anyone.”

He couldn’t deny the small happiness he felt that at least one person believed he wasn’t a bad person – even if he now had to disillusion her of that.

“Sometimes you have to hurt bad people who try to hurt your family. There are bad people out there, Rohanne, who hurt other living things that can’t fight back. They don’t do it because they have to, they do it because they can, because hurting others makes them happy. It is the people like this that sometimes you have to hurt, because if you didn’t they would hurt more people for bad reasons. That’s what knights do. We protect the good people by hurting the bad people.” He said slowly and quietly, trying to emphasise the importance of his words.

Rohanne remained silent, staring at the sword, but he felt relieved when she reached out to take his hand.

“I’m sorry you had to hurt people to protect us, nuncle.” She said, her voice especially serious for a five-year-old.

Jaime was struck dumb for a moment before he took the small hand in his into both of his and squeezed gently.

“Never, ever be sorry for that, Rohanne. I am not. I will never feel sorry for it because I would do anything to protect you, your mother, Joff and Myrcella.”

“Oh.” She said and looked up to him. “I want to protect you too nuncle.”

This was it. He would do his best to ease her into it.

“You can learn, if you would like to?”

“To protect you? How?”

“I can teach you to use a sword.”

She pulled back her hand and frowned, while Jaime cursed silently. He had been too blunt.

“But I’d have to hurt people.”

“They would be bad people, Rohanne. Bad people who would want to hurt you and your family. Maybe your mother, me, or Joff. They might even want to hurt Myrcella. Don’t you want to know how to protect them?” Jaime said, trying not to lay on the manipulation too heavily before remembering she was only five. She wouldn’t reject it out of spite.

Rohanne shook her head in confusion. “Who would want to hurt ‘Cella? She’s just a little baby.”

“The bad people, like I told you. They don’t care who they hurt, only that they hurt people because it makes them happy.”

“What about Joffy? He’s learning to use a sword. Why can’t he protect us?” She asked.

He would think she was clutching for straws if he didn’t know she was just a little girl who didn’t want to hurt anyone. A large part of him felt guilty for this, but an even larger part regretted nothing, knowing he would never be able to stomach the look on Rohanne or Cersei’s face if she was ever in a situation without protection and no way to protect herself.

He didn’t want to have to see the same bruises that sometimes appeared on Cersei’s fine cheekbones on Rohanne’s. The rage that boiled in him the first time was like nothing he had ever felt before, and he knew he had scared Cersei that night in his fury. At a time when he should have been soothing his injured sister, he had been out of control. He had destroyed the small room she had dragged him into and ignored all of her distressed attempts to calm him.

It wasn’t until she had thrown herself bodily at him to stop him leaving the room to kill Robert that he had registered her terrified, battered face and swept her into his arms. It had taken all of her powers of persuasion and then some heavy-handed truths of their situation to talk him into standing down.

Even now, thinking about what that beast had done and continued to do to his twin made him hunger for vengeance. One day he would pay back in kind and finally begin to make amends for failing to protect Cersei. When he finally died and ended up in one of the seven hells, he would gladly accept whatever punishment he was given – because no punishment could be worse than being forced to do nothing.

The thought of this happening to Rohanne or little Myrcella when she was older… it kindled a dangerous heat under his skin and he would do everything in his power to prevent it. While he would prefer to slaughter any guilty parties himself, if it took handing the girls a blade to stop anything from happening at all…

He was entirely willing to do that.

They would become fiercer than any Dornish warrior before he allowed either of them to become sheep.

And if Rohelle had to be a Baratheon then she would be a stag, never a doe – her enemies would learn to fear her sharp antlers and her fury.

But first he had to make her see that.

“What if Joffrey isn’t there, Rohanne, and I’m not there? What if you are all alone with only baby Myrcella and a bad man comes, trying to hurt her? Would you let her get hurt because you didn’t want to hurt the bad man?”

“No!” She cried out, frustrated tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

He knew he had made his point. Rohanne was as stubborn as Cersei and if he pushed any further she would dig in her heels.

“It’s alright, Rohanne. Don’t worry.” He said soothingly, holding her hand once again. “I’ll let you think about it. There’s no hurry.”

He stood up again and sheathed his sword swiftly. He offered a gallant hand to his niece and she took it hesitantly, still slightly upset.

“Come on princess, let us go and visit your mother. I sure she will have some sweetcakes for us, and we might find your brother.”

Rohanne brightened up at that and before long she was chattering loudly as she skipped alongside him towards Cersei’s rooms.

All seemed to have been forgotten – but Jaime still caught the last long, considering glance she gave to his sword and thought perhaps it hadn’t all been in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of four prologues and then we're onto the main chapters, which will mostly be from Rohanne's point of view. The next prologue will be from Robert's perspective.
> 
> I've updated today because I've decided to make Friday my update day - so you can expect a new chapter every week (barring any real life interference).


	3. Prologue 3: Disillusionment Isn’t Just A Magic Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert's second son is born, and named Tommen - yet as much as he tries, there is no love in his heart when he thinks of his children. 
> 
> Joffrey proves this further.

Robert I

Myrcella was a sweet child, Robert thought, probably the calmest of his three.

It was likely only because she was small; being two namedays to her brother and sister’s eight and seven, but still. In contrast, Joffrey and Rohanne ran riot through the keep.

It was near impossible to lose them due to their constant laughing and screaming and there was only silence during sleep or when mischief was being planned. The part of him that was king knew that he should discipline them – Joffrey was the crown prince and heir to the throne while Rohanne was a princess, one supposed to be ladylike and poised.

But the part of him that had grown up in the Eyrie and ran wild with Ned wanted to let them be children for a while longer. The Seven knew this bloody vipers’ nest of a city would suck the life out of them soon enough. Better to let them have their fun now.

Besides it never failed to surprise him how Cersei was such a ruthless harpy but let their children do as they pleased. Every time Rohanne ran past in a dirty gown he kept expecting her to grab the girl and drag her back to her septa – which happened more and more as the girl got older and Cersei got worse, but not nearly as often as it probably should. Admittedly, his girl was good. She kept up with her lessons and remember all her airs and graces when she needed to, which was probably enough to keep his wife happy.

It kept him happy too, although he was the first to admit he made a horrid father.

Robert was many things but he knew that he wasn’t fatherly material. Perhaps he could have been at one point – back when he was just the Storm Lord, back with a different woman, the right woman…

He held back a sigh as he thought about her again.

Lyanna was a bittersweet thought that had haunted him every day since her death and likely would until he died and joined her in the grave. She had been lovely. All dark hair and pale skin with the finest blue eyes he had ever seen; the colour of winter roses. And like those winter roses, she had numerous thorns that threatened to prick you bloody – gods she had been a delight.

A preciously unique woman-child who he had been promised to, one who he was eager to see grow and become the woman who would one day become his wife. The woman who he had never gotten to see her become before she had been ripped away from him and carried away by the silver-haired madman. She had been just sixteen when she died, already two years of her that he had never gotten to know – years that the dragon had given her filled with suffering and cruelty.

Ned had never told him exactly how she had died, had simply said it was fever – but Robert wasn’t a fool, no matter what anyone may think. Ned had been trying to protect his sister’s honour, even in death, something Robert appreciated more than his old friend knew. But he knew what had happened to her; the indignities and abuse that his betrothed had to endure. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had been raped to death.

Suddenly he was accosted by that overwhelmingly familiar feeling of bloodlust. It had been almost a decade since he had caved in Rhaegar Targaryen’s breastplate and sent him crashing into the Trident with his chest crushed to splinters, but it would never be enough. Robert could replay that glorious moment a thousand times in his head and it would never satisfy his need to avenge her.

“Papa.”

Myrcella babbled into his shoulder and he was broken from his violent thoughts by the feeling of her tugging gently on his beard. He gave himself a moment to recover before chuckling uncomfortably and patting her on the head.

“Aye, you’re a good lass Myrcella.”

It was a damned miracle that the only thing this sweet child got from her mother so far was the blonde curls. Joffrey was already too much his mother’s son in every way – Robert didn’t like to think about how his son and heir frustrated him, but he supposed there was still time for the child to grow. Rohanne was slightly better – she had his own dark hair and her happy demeanour seemed to light up the room. Yet much like Joffrey, she adored her mother and her king-slaying uncle more than he would like. Sometimes he saw his mother Cassana in her when she smiled and his heart lightened, at least until he caught glimpse of those sly Lannister green eyes and he was brutally reminded of exactly who her mother was. He wasn’t meant to be a father to daughters; not a man like him.

No, he couldn’t say he loved his children, but he was fond of them and he would care for them as best he could. Perhaps the new one that Cersei was nearly done cooking would be less of a disappointment.

“Excuse me, your grace. The Lord Hand and Lord Varys are requesting your presence in the council chambers.” A maid said from the nursery doorway, curtseying politely.

He nodded once and waved his hand at her vaguely.

“Aye, girl. Tell them I’m coming.”

She curtseyed again and disappeared. Robert sighed and pressed a brief, bristly kiss to Myrcella’s forehead. He stood up quickly and passed her over to the waiting nursemaid who nodded in respect as she settled Myrcella on her hip.

“Bye, lass.”

“Bah-bah-ee, papa.” Myrcella mumbled, her sweet smile constant.

Robert left the nursery promptly, Ser Arys and Ser Meryn falling into step behind him from where the Kingsguard had been standing on duty by the door. The near constant presence of the white cloaks was suffocating. He barely got a moment’s peace; he wasn’t left alone even to shit. It was enough to drive him to distraction – even over a decade of practice hadn’t endeared him to them.

But that decade had given him some semblance of patience – for he didn’t say a word as he strode along the corridors of the Red Keep. Servants and nobles alike bowed or curtseyed in respect but he barely acknowledged them, preferring to get to the council chambers as quickly as possible. He didn’t know why Jon insisted on his presence at some of these – wasn’t it the Hand’s bloody job to run the kingdom?

Nothing bored him faster than listening to Varys or his damned brother Stannis drone on about some unimportant matter or another.

He walked swiftly into the vast, empty throne room; glancing that the giant painful monstrosity in the centre. Gods but sometimes he regretted putting his arse on it. If he had known what was to come he’d have hightailed it back to Storm’s End in a blink and left the damned thing to Ned. But even now it was a form of revenge. Rhaegar took Lyanna but Robert took the throne that was meant to be his.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret that part. Anything that might have caused that bastard pain brought him joy, true enough.

The two Kingsguard positioned themselves to either side of the door. Jon Arryn and the Spider were sitting close to the head of the table, deep in discussion when he entered the council chambers. There were two cups of wine between them – where Jon’s was half empty, Varys’ was full. There were a great many things about the Spider that he mistrusted and the fact that the man avoided wine entirely was one of them. The eunuch was a strange one indeed.

Both men noticed his arrival and stood to greet him, bowing as he sat at the head of the table and seating themselves once more.

“Your grace, I trust you are well?” Varys said, sliding his hands into his sleeves. Gods but his voice was as slimy as the rest of him.

Robert sneered but nodded curtly.

“Aye, fine. Shall we get to the point of why you called me here?”

Jon and Varys shared a look. Varys leaned back into his chair after inclining his head to Jon, who took a deep breath.

“There’s been some news from across the Narrow Sea, your grace. It seems that Viserys Targaryen and his sister have been spotted in Volantis.”

Robert spat to the side and grunted.

“The question is, your grace, what would they be doing there? My little birds have confirmed that they have long since worn out their welcome with most of the noble families in the free cities, the Tigers and the Elephants in Volantis included. Their Valyrian blood maybe have won them support for a small time after your grace ascended to the throne, but it does not win them charity. No one has any desire to host the last Targaryens any longer.” Varys said, ending with a absent flick of his hands before they once again settled back into his wide sleeves.

“It is believed, your grace, that they have been reduced to… living on the mercy of others.” Jon said delicately.

Jon flinched slightly when Robert burst into booming laughter, yet Varys remained unperturbed.

“They’re beggars, you mean! Ha! A fitting end for the last two dragonspawn. With any luck the streets will swallow them up.” Robert said, pouring himself a glass of wine and gulping half of it with relish.

“Does your grace intend to do something about this?” Varys asked.

Robert glowered at him. “Such as? They’re just brats.”

“They are a threat to your grace’s rule…”

Robert spat again and coughed in disbelief.

“A boy not yet a man and a little girl are no threat to me, dragonspawn or no. And now they’re on the streets, it won’t be long before the boy ends up dead in a gutter. Viserys’ madness will consume him and the girl will end up in a brothel long before she ever returns to Westeros. No.”

Robert swigged his wine again, savouring the bitter Dornish red and finishing the glass.

“The time of the dragons is over - let them starve to death.”

Varys and Jon looked at one another again but said nothing more.

“Very well, your grace. There is another matter however, regarding the Citadel. The archmaester-“

The door opened and one of Cersei’s ladies – the only one that wasn’t a fucking Lannister – curtseyed.

“Forgive me the disturbance, your grace, my lords. The grand maester sent me. Her grace the Queen has begun her labour.”

Jon and Varys turned to Robert immediately to offer their congratulations, but Robert’s mind turned to something else completely.

“Fetch my squire, girl. We’re going on a hunt.”

* * *

 

His stallion’s hooves pounded the paving stones as he rode triumphantly back towards the Red Keep. His catch, a muscled monster of a stag, was draped over the back of the one of the other horses with no rider. Stannis rode alongside him, the look on his face likely to curdle milk while young Renly rode behind them both, laughing loudly at something Robert’s squire had said to him.

What a pair of brothers I have, Robert thought derisively. A sour faced git and an idiot. Neither of them were the brothers he was supposed to have, nothing like Ned had been with Brandon and Benjen Stark. Nothing like Ned had been either – of them, Ned was more a brother than his own blood.

He glanced once more at Stannis, taking in the man’s dead eyes and pursed mouth. It was difficult to recall that the man had a young daughter and a wife at home. He’d be more suited to the life of a stern maester than a damned lord.

They rode into the stables where Robert vaulted off his horse. He yanked off his gauntlets and his cloak before tossing them at his squire who scrambled to catch them.

“Take these, lad!”

He marched into the keep as he removed pieces of his armour, handing them one by one to his panting squire, chuckling deeply when the boy almost dropped them all.

“Don’t drop them, idiot boy!” He shouted, grinning when the boy jumped and nodded frantically.

“Yes, your grace! Of course.” He stuttered, trying to organise his load into a stacked bundle. Robert was not making it easy for it.

“Stop torturing the boy, your grace.” Jon said as Robert turned a corner, a smile growing.

Robert laughed and smacked Jon hard on the shoulder.

“He’d be an even shitter squire if I didn’t!” He said as it turned to the young lad. “Off with you now boy. Go and get that stag to the butcher.”

The squire bowed twice, his arms full.

“Aye, your grace. Of course, your grace.”

He darted off towards the stables again.

“After you put my armour away!” Robert bellowed after him.

The squire spun on the spot, almost tripping into a passing laundrymaid, and sprinted up the stairs like demons were after him. Robert howled in laughter before hitting Jon’s shoulder again.

“Idiots, the lot of them. I don’t remember being so damned stupid at that age, I can tell you.”

Jon inclined his head as they began to walk.

“Which family is this squire from?” Jon asked.

“Not a fucking clue. Not the Lannisters at least, so he’ll do.” Robert laughed again and shook his head. “I’m surrounded by them Jon. Everywhere I look I see their shit blond heads and devious eyes.”

Jon didn’t reply to that.

“Well, your grace, you have one more Baratheon in the Red Keep. A healthy prince.”

Robert stopped for a moment but his shock quickly turned into a proud smile and they continued.

“A boy, eh? Good, good. We menfolk were outnumbered for too long.”

“Her grace the Queen has named him Tommen, your grace?” Jon said.

Robert scratched his beard. “Aye, that’s one of the names we chose. That or Lyonel.”

“Good, strong names, your grace.”

“Tommen will do. I’ll head on up to see the lad now.” Robert said, as a frown grew on his face. “Where’s the Kingslayer?”

“I believe Ser Jaime is currently guarding the children in the nursery, your grace, although Ser Barristan would be able to tell you with surety.” Jon said, slowly down as they climbed the stairs.

Even for a fit young man, the stairs of the Red Keep were a daunting task. Robert himself could feel his lungs starting to burn – although he knew he wasn’t as fit as he used to be. The gods knew he couldn’t be sitting on a damned chair all the time.

Robert turned to Ser Mandon who was trailing silently behind him alongside Ser Boros.

“One of you lot fetch the Kingslayer to the throne room. Tell him to wait there.”

He turned around again and proceeded up the stairs, not caring which one went.

At the door to Cersei’s chambers, Ser Barristan was standing watch.

“Your grace, my congratulations on the new prince.” Ser Barristan said with a small smile on his face and bowing when Robert got closer.

Robert nodded in acknowledgement before gesturing towards the room. Ser Barristan knocked on the door and called through.

“Your grace, his grace the King has arrived.”

“Of course, Ser Barristan.” Cersei said faintly through the door.

Robert opened and closed the door behind him without further delay. She lay on the bed, hair precisely fixed and not a mark on her face. Every so often Robert needed to ruffle those perfect feathers because when he didn’t, it felt like he was married to a statue.

The baby lay wrapped in blankets in her arms and he could hear him huffing from across the room.

Robert stood to the side of her and Cersei revealed his face. When he saw the fair hair on Tommen’s head his eyes narrowed. She’d given him yet another blond lion. The wave of displeasure was strong and his regard for the child soon melted away.

“I thought to name him Tommen.” She said, her voice just as conceited as it always was.

Gods but he detested this woman, the mother of his children. What did that say about him? More importantly, what did that say about the shrew sitting next to him?

“Aye, it’ll do.”

She looked up to him calmly, her face open and seemingly guileless.

“Does he please you, husband?” She said, her tone hopeful.

Cersei’s face was open and seemingly guileless but Robert could taste the ripe flavour of insincerity on his tongue. It was all he could do to keep his face blank.

He reached out and stroked Tommen’s head for a moment, ignoring when she made motions to give him the baby.

“He does.”

Robert stepped away from the bed and watched as Cersei’s face turned to stone. Her eyes were icy and her lips were turning white from how hard she was pressing them together.

He gave the sleeping baby one last glance. Any curiosity he had felt for Tommen vanished into cool disinterest and he left the room.

* * *

 

The Kingslayer was waiting by the steps to the Iron Throne. His white cloak was pristine and his armour gleamed in the candlelight. Blond hair curled perfectly along the nape of his neck and his slanted green eyes shifted across everything. He seemed unbothered by the summons, blinking lazily like the bloody lion on his family’s banners.

Gods, Robert hated the pretentious prick.

The two Kingsguard following him took up post on either side of the throne as Robert paused for a moment beside the Kingslayer and gestured mockingly to the large iron chair.

“Don’t let me stop you, Kingslayer.”

“Apologies, your grace, but I have to decline. I tried it once, but in truth I couldn’t see the appeal.” He said smoothly, bowing his head in some parody of respect.

Robert almost growled as he climbed up the stairs and sat down on the throne.

“Careful, Kingslayer.”

He bowed his head again. “Forgive me, your grace.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed but he decided to let it go. The Kingslayer loved to play word games, desperate to prove himself the cleverest in the room. He didn’t say anything for a long time, glaring at the honourless knight in search of a reaction. The Lannister didn’t seem at all disturbed, waiting for his king to speak.

“Well, Lannister? Aren’t you going to congratulate me on the birth of my son?”

“Congratulations on the birth of your son, your grace.” He said immediately, his tone blatantly hollow.

Robert grinded his teeth, his fist clenching.

“Gods, but you are a smug shit, aren’t you, Kingslayer?”

The tension in the hall was palpable. Finally, he got a reaction, but before either of them could speak again they were interrupted.

“No, Joff, don’t!” Rohanne shouted from the open door, her voice wavering.

She seemed to be sobbing as Joffrey ran into the room, carrying something wrapped in a cloth in his arms. Her braided hair had been pulled loose and there was a dark smear along the front of her yellow dress, but in the faint light, Robert couldn’t see what it was.

“Shut up ‘Anne! You’re such a baby, I want to show father!” Joffrey replied, slowing to a fast walk but continuing straight towards the throne.

“No, Joff, you can’t. He won’t like it and it’s bad!” She screamed, tears pouring down her cheeks.

The Kingslayer glanced at Robert before walking towards Rohanne. He crouched down to her level and said something to her. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand, saying something back as she leaned into her uncle’s shoulder.

Joffrey had stopped in the middle of the room, unsure, but Robert impatiently gestured him forwards.

“Come here and show me, boy.”

The Kingslayer stood up as Joffrey did as he was told. His lips were pursed and his eyebrows rose as Rohanne finished saying something through her weeping.

“Your grace, perhaps-“

“Shut up, Kingslayer, and make that girl be quiet.”

Joffrey stopped at the foot of the throne and Robert stepped down to meet him. He crouched next to the boy and patted him on the shoulder.

“Come on now lad, let’s see what you have.”

It was only when Joffrey began to unwrap whatever was in his arms that Robert noticed the crimson stains on the boy’s hands. Rohanne had yet to stop crying even as the Kingslayer tried to comfort her. Abruptly he dreaded what was under the cloth, but nothing could have prepared him for it.

Something small and pink rolled onto the floor, covered in blood. It was hairless and barely formed but Robert could clearly see it was supposed to be a kitten. He roughly pulled the rest of the cloth from the boy and shook it. His stomach turned when two more small bodies fell to the polished marble with a wet splat, followed by a bloody and battered mouser. The cat’s innards slopped out as well, landing half over the dead kittens and some of the fluid splashed onto Robert’s breeches.

He turned a vicious glare onto Joffrey who seemed to wither under his father’s eye.

“What in the Seven hells is this, boy!?” He snapped, throwing the bloody cloth across the room.

Joffrey quivered. “I-it’s the kitchen cat, father. The cook said that it was having kittens like mother was having Tommen, and I wanted to see inside.”

Rohanne’s crying got louder as her brother finished, and she started stammering out apologies.

“I’m so-orry, father, I… I tried to sto-op him but I couldn’t and then the cat was dead and her kittens and there was blood all over the floor and-!” She said, unable to finish and it dawned on Robert what the dark smear on her dress was.

Rage surged through him and he backhanded Joffrey hard across the face. Rohanne fell immediately silent and in the silence a small ping was heard as two of Joffrey’s top front teeth flew across the throne room.

Joffrey fell to the floor, holding his face with trembling hands and staring up at his giant father with wide eyes. Blood began to trickle between his fingers but Robert did not have it in him to feel any kind of remorse. He had been far too lax with Joffrey. He could see that now.

“What kind of beast are you, boy?” He roared.

Robert was unable to even think how any son of his could do things like this. How had he fathered such a little monster? Revulsion welled in his stomach.

Joffrey whimpered when Robert moved towards him, shrinking back.

“Get out of my sight!”

Joffrey stumbled to his feet and bolted outside. Robert looked after him for a moment before he looked over to his other child.

Rohanne’s entire body was shaking. She had one hand clamped over her mouth and the other fisted in the Kingslayer’s cloak, leaning into the man’s side. The Kingslayer’s face was stormy, but he ignored the man in favour of his terrified daughter.

Robert sighed and rubbed his eyes. He held out a reassuring arm towards her.

“Come here, lass.”

She was completely still for a moment. Then she twitched violently and ran, avoiding the Kingslayer’s hand. For the first time in her life, she disobeyed him.

Rohanne rushed out of the heavy wooden doors without looking back. He didn’t shout after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more prologue to go, and then we are onto the main chapters - next Friday's installment will be from Cersei's point of view once more. We'll be much closer to the main storyline as well, Joffrey and Rohanne will be teenagers the next time we meet them. I hope you enjoyed this and I appreciate any feedback, as always.


	4. Prologue 4: What Is Right, Is Never Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei only ever hurts Jaime when necessary.
> 
> Meanwhile, she worries over her eldest children.

Cersei II

Jaime swung his sword in a horizontal arc. The air whistled as the blade passed through it, and for a moment there was quiet.

A loud clang erupted as Rohanne grunted and parried. She leapt backwards with bent knees and twisted, shooting forwards with a ferocious stab that Jaime deflected with ease. He returned with another attack, and once again she deflected. She threw a strange defence, catching his next downward thrust by holding the handle while her other hand braced the flat of the blade near the point.

Jaime shook his head.

"I told you not to use that move."

Rohanne frowned as she panted, leaping forward with another attack.

"Why change what works?" She said, chin jutting out in determination as she slashed upwards.

Jaime dodged swiftly out of the way and twirled his sword around hers before flicking roughly to the side. Rohanne gasped in outrage as his sword was wrenched from her grasp, landing with a crash on the stone floor and colliding into one of the pillars.

She wheezed for breath as he held his sword to her throat for a moment before backing off.

"That's the point, princess." He said mockingly. "It doesn't work with anyone unless they are weaker than you or going easy, like me. If you do that with someone stronger, like any man for example, one of your arms will give under the pressure and his blade will slide,  _fast_ , towards that end of the blade. And do you know what that means?"

Rohanne huffed and looked away.

"You'll end up losing some of those fingers. Do not let me catch you doing it again, do you understand?"

She sighed but nodded. "Yes, uncle."

Jaime nodded. "Good. Now go and get washed up. You're expected at dinner tonight - your mother will kill you if you come covered in sweat and wearing breeches."

Rohanne laughed, running a hand through her sweaty hair and tucking a tendril behind her ear. The wind was light, cold but not enough to cool them down.

"Alright, uncle. Will I see you there? Mother says uncle Tyrion will be attending." She said, smiling as she bounced on her toes.

Jaime gave her a wan smile. "We'll see. Run along now, princess."

She nodded and waved goodbye as she left the small outdoor courtyard, leaving her uncle alone. Or so she thought.

Cersei watched as Jaime walked over to the abandoned practice sword and picked it up, sheathing it again.

"She's quite good." Cersei said quietly. She knew he could hear her.

Jaime froze for a moment before turning to look at her.

"I wondered if you would show yourself, sister. What can I do for you?" Jaime said, walking over to the weapons rack and replacing the sword.

"I told you to stop teaching her."

Jaime turned to face her, a false smile on his face.

"I believe I told you before I first started teaching her that I would do it even if Robert forbade it. I misspoke; I meant  _whoever_  forbade it. My apologies for the confusion, sweet sister." Jaime said, his deliberately flippant tone causing her nostrils to flare.

"Don't be absurd, brother. It was fine when she was a child, galivanting around with swords and bows but it has gone on far too long. She is a woman now with duties and responsibilities. Soon she will marry and do you truly believe any noble family will tolerate a princess who larks around with weapons like a beardless boy?"

"The Dornish probably would."

"Enough with your jokes, Jaime. Stop indulging her." Cersei said, crossing her arms and standing straight.

Jaime walked closer to her. "You agreed with me, Cersei. I asked if you would let me protect her, let me help her learn to protect herself – and you said yes."

Cersei shook her head, pulling away when he tried to wrap her in his arms.

"Not here."

"Why not here? We're completely alone."

"Anyone could walk in Jaime!" She complained, trying not to react as he began kissing her neck.

"No one ever come here except myself and Rohanne – and I fully expect she's too busy trying to make herself presentable for  _you_ to bother doing so. Relax, sister." He said coaxingly.

Cersei groaned before easing back into his chest, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I do not care what I said all those years ago. You need to stop it now."

"No." He punctuated the word with another kiss just below her ear. "I don't think I will."

"She's  _my_ daughter, Jaime. You'll do as I say."

She felt his hold on her freeze just before he released her completely.

"That's not what you said before." He said, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Be realistic, brother."

"You don't let me near any of them anymore." He muttered, an ugly twist on his mouth.

"It's too dangerous!" She replied. Surely, he must realise that!

"They're my children Cersei! I rarely get to see Myrcella and Tommen barely knows me!" He shouted before she hit him hard across the face.

"Be quiet! Are you trying to get us all killed!" She hissed, glancing quickly to the closed door. She prayed no one had heard them.

"They are Robert's children, Jaime. They must be, to keep them and to keep us safe! It escapes me how you don't understand that!" She said, seeing the almost devastated expression on his face but refusing to care.

Her children were more important.

She took advantage of his silence to lay a hand on his chest.

"I am sorry Jaime. But if you hold any love at all for me and the children, you'll stop Rohanne's lessons and stay away from them."

She wrapped her shawl around her tightly and left him standing alone in the small courtyard as the rain began to fall.

* * *

Cersei had time to change into a different gown before dinner. It was Lannister red with shimmering sleeves of Pentoshi silk chiffon. Embroidered around her waist in marginally darker crimson thread were numerous tiny rampant lions; while the skirt flared over her hips and fell elegantly to the floor, edged with fine Myrish lace. It could be considered a daring option, yet Cersei was nothing if not daring. The only thing she had to fear from her husband had nothing to do with a dress.

It also had the added benefit of being Jaime's favourite on her. She knew that this dress accentuated her breasts and her hips, as well as teasing her shapely arms. She had meant every word she said earlier, of course, but she regretted hurting him. He would allow her to make it up to him.

She dismissed her maid and began walking down to the dining room.

There would be herself and the children in attendance, of course, along with her imp of a little brother Tyrion. Why anyone had felt the need to drag him from the Rock was beyond her – father should have kept him there, out of the sight of decent people. Robert was supposed to attend as well but there was half a chance that he just wouldn't appear. She wasn't opposed if he chose to do this tonight.

Jon Arryn and his deranged wife would be there too, along with their lackwit son. If Cersei was lucky the boy would be too 'ill'' to attend and Lysa Tully wouldn't come either. The demented raving of a lunatic was beyond what she wished to deal with tonight.

Jaime should be there too, but that was also a matter of whether Robert came. If he was there, Jaime would have to stand on guard at the side of the room or outside. If Robert remained enthralled by his whores, Jaime would get to eat with them.

Ser Boros stood at attention outside the dining room and greeted her respectfully. Clearly her eldest son was already in attendance, since Ser Boros had been the one to accompany him today. Joffrey had little tolerance for the guards, but she had managed to convince him to have them. He was the future king after all, he could hardly be left unguarded.

She was about to enter when conversation from inside made her pause.

"Please, leave him alone, Joff." Rohanne said, her voice muffled through the door.

"What was that? I can't hear you over the sound of this one snivelling." Joffrey replied, and Cersei would suddenly hear quiet sobs which could only be coming from Tommen.

"Please leave him, Joffrey. He didn't mean it." Myrcella's sweet voice piped up.

"I don't care if he meant it – the little fool spilled water on me!"

"It's just water and he's only seven. You're almost a man grown Joff, it's not at all a fair fight." Rohanne said, her tone placating. But there was a tinge of sarcasm there too and Joffrey picked up on it immediately.

"Do you want to show me a fair fight then, sister? Please." Joffrey said, a loud bang following. "I'd get my sword and you'd run off bleating to uncle Jaime or father like the cow you are."

"Sheep bleat, brother, not cows. Don't you know that?"

"Shut up!"

The loud crack of skin against skin followed and Cersei could hear Myrcella gasping as Tommen began to cry louder. She was sure Joff had just hit Rohanne but she found herself unable to move.

She remembered what Jaime said about bruises on cheekbones and brushed her fingers across her own cheek. But Joffrey was to be king. What kind of future king was disciplined by his mother?

Cersei loved all her children dearly, but Joffrey was the heir, the crown prince. Kings were not lesser men to be reprimanded and forced to obey. She couldn't.

Rohanne would have to learn the same lesson. Joffrey was her future king, not just her brother. She shouldn't talk back to him in that manner and while Cersei would prefer that she wasn't hurt, perhaps it would take this to settle things back into the proper rhythm.

She gave them a few more minutes before she went to enter.

"Good evening, your grace." A voice from behind her said.

She turned to meet Jon Arryn and his wife, although thankfully there didn't seem to be any sign of their ailing wretch. A gracious smile appeared on her face.

"Good evening Lord Arryn, Lady Arryn. Might I ask how young Robert is?"

Jon Arryn tightened his hold on his wife's arm as she went to speak and returned Cersei's smile with one of his own.

"We appreciate your concern, your grace. I'm afraid Robert has been rather poorly today, we left him in the safe hands of the maester. I apologise for his absence tonight."

"Nonsense, Lord Arryn. The wellbeing of our children is the utmost priority. Might I extend my wishes for his speedy recovery?"

"We are grateful for them, your grace." Jon said.

Cersei inclined her head to the door gracefully. "Shall we enter, my lord?"

"Let us, your grace."

Ser Boros opened the door and all three entered.

Joffrey was sitting to the right of the head of the table, sprawled out lazily but tense in his chair like a lion poised to attack. His long legs crossed at the ankles and he was glaring violently at his younger sister who sat diagonally opposite from him, one seat down from where Cersei herself would sit. Rohanne met Joffrey's stare head on while maintaining a conversation with Tommen, who was sitting next to her with a small toy in his hands. There was a familiar glint in her eyes, one known to Cersei because she was used to seeing in her own reflection – it promised retribution. Myrcella was sitting on the same side of the table as Joffrey with one seat between them. Of the four, she seemed to the most uncomfortable, looking from Rohanne to Joffrey and back again, as if waiting.

Whatever might have happened didn't, for as Cersei and the other guests entered her three eldest children stood up with pleasant, vacant smiles on their faces. Tommen followed their lead after a moment and small prompting by his sister.

"Mother! How lovely to see you!" Joffrey called out, gesturing to the empty table. "We were wondering if you were going to come!"

Joffrey was wearing a maroon doublet over a dark tunic, lined with golden strips of silk. He wore his sword belt, but Cersei could see that the sword and scabbard itself was missing. At least he hadn't forgotten his manners completely.

Cersei smiled briefly. "I wouldn't think of missing dinner, Joffrey."

"Some of us need to miss it, I think." Joffrey said, looking pointedly towards Rohanne with his eyes.

She ignored him, curtseying politely.

"Mother, Lord Arryn, Lady Arryn. It is a pleasure to see you all again." She finished with a sweet smile.

She was wearing a deep green gown, a muted contrast to Cersei's own vibrant choice. It was lined with dark Myrish lace and embroidered with different flowers from the bust to the bottom of the skirt, but lacked any other intricacies. Her hair was tied up in common southern style with a matching ribbon woven through it. Despite her activities earlier in the day, she would do for dinner.

Cersei could not see any sort of mark on her skin, but she wasn't facing her directly.

Jon bowed in response. "Princess, it is a delight to see you as well. Thank you for your and your siblings' kind welcome."

They all settled comfortably into their seats and were soon joined by Tyrion who jumped immediately into the seat between Joffrey and Myrcella that no one else seemed to want. He dispensed the usual pleasantries to the Hand and his wife before returning to his family.

"Hello, my darling nieces and nephews. I trust you have been well since last we spoke?"

He received a smile from them all except Joffrey, who scoffed instead and sipped at his wine which one of the maids had just brought in. Cersei held back a similar reaction – as much as she hated the little beast, her younger children seemed to have Jaime's bizarre liking for him.

"Oh yes, nuncle. I went to my garden today." Myrcella said, holding out to him a small tulip that she had taken from her hair. "This is for you."

She was wearing a fluffy pink dress, her favourite colour. Her long blonde hair flowed in gentle waves down her back while the front tresses were pinned up behind her head. It was this small strip of hair which had housed the flower.

"It's beautiful, Myrcella, thank you. Why don't you keep it safe for me until after dinner?" He asked and she did so with a giggle, tucking it back into her hair.

Tyrion then turned to where Tommen was smiling shying.

"Is that a new toy I see, Tommen? Might I have a closer look at it?" He said and the boy held it up.

Tyrion gasped in awe. "A fine thing. I should be rather jealous."

Tommen blushed and was about to speak when Joffrey interrupted.

"A fine toy for a baby." He said smugly. Tommen's small surge of confidence deflated again.

"A toy too young for some of us, perhaps, nephew. But Tommen is still young himself, let him enjoy it." Tyrion said.

Cersei spoke up. "Joff is right. Tommen is too old to be getting new toys. He is a prince and princes do not act like children."

Tommen deflate further but it was a harsh truth. He needed to stop clutching to toys and games.

"Yet he is still a child, dear sister." Tyrion said, ignoring the glare she sent him. "How are you, Rohanne? You seem to have an injury?"

Rohanne smiled civilly. Her head turned slightly and Cersei was at last able to see the viciously red and conspicuous handprint flared across her right cheek.

"Joffrey was swotting a fly, of all things, and happened to catch me. I was in the way, it wasn't his fault at all." She said, sarcasm dripping from every word. It was terribly reminiscent of Jaime and Cersei was reminded of all the time Rohanne spent with him.

"No, I hit you because you were being a cunt." Joffrey declared, his nose in the air.

"An accident, niece?" Tyrion asked simply.

"No, it was deliberate." Joffrey insisted, somehow avoiding Cersei who was trying to catch his eye.

"Naturally, uncle – my brother's aim is terrible. How is Casterly Rock?" Rohanne said mildly.

She flinched directly afterwards and Joffrey sat himself back up straight in his seat – but then he flinched as well and shot a look of pure poison at his sister. They had likely kicked each other under the table.

Cersei hated that her children fought so; yet what could she do?

Tyrion entertained the children for a time with stories of the Rock and their grandfather – how amusing that he could say anything nice about the man at all.

It was an open secret that Tyrion had less than warm feelings towards their father; and that the sentiment was returned. Cersei had little love for the man herself, but she understood his hatred of Tyrion. The little monster had ripped her mother to pieces and there he was swanning around, flaunting it in all their faces. It was revolting.

The conversation trailed off as Jaime entered with little fanfare and sat himself to the right of Myrcella.

"His grace sends his apologies, but he is unable to make dinner tonight." He said, gesturing to the maid to begin serving.

"Of course, Ser Jaime, we understand. His grace has many other duties to attend to." Jon Arryn said. The strange quirk of his lips showed that he knew exactly what Robert was up to.

Cersei was relieved. Any time away from that lumbering brute was time well spent, in her opinion. She would also get to have dinner with her twin, a rare occasion.

Idle chatter begun as the servants brought out the food onto the table. There was a pork joint basted in honey, surrounded by roasted sweet potatoes and vegetables. On another plate was salted salmon and herring drizzled with fresh lemon juice, another had a whole roasted chicken sprinkled with spices and dripping with fat. Such luxurious selection, only fitting for royalty.

Steam rose from the food as the smell permeated the room and soon the small talk ceased as everyone began to eat.

Dinner finished with few other interruptions, ignoring the odd outburst from Joffrey. The Arryns bade their farewells and Tyrion pleaded exhaustion after hugging the children, retrieving the flower from Myrcella.

Joffrey stormed out soon after and the maid came to take Tommen and Myrcella to their beds.

Jaime was waiting in the corner for her, his hands held behind his back. Rohanne took one last sip of water before she stood up.

"Rohanne, sweetling, come here." Cersei said while reaching her arms out.

Her daughter smiled softly and stood in front of her, wincing slightly when Cersei ran a gentle hand across the red mark on her skin. It was strange, she thought, that her fourteen-year-old daughter was the same height as she was – likely to grow taller. One of the only things she got from her father.

"I'm alright, please don't fuss." Rohanne said, but she didn't protest as Cersei cupped her other cheek and held her face softly.

"I am your mother; it is my right to worry." She ran a hand up through her dark hair before letting go and stepping back. "You need to mind your brother more, darling. You know he has a temper and when you fight with him you only encourage it."

Rohanne started to frown.

"He is the future king,  _your_ future king." Cersei said firmly. "You must remember that. He cannot have his sister undermining his authority."

Rohanne's brow furrowed. "That's just how Joff and I are-"

"Hush, now. Just say you agree."

"But mother, it isn't like that-"

"Rohanne." Cersei said, her eyes narrowing sharply.

Her daughter sighed and nodded again. "Alright mother."

"Good." Cersei leaned up and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I will meet you back in your chambers and we can discuss your dress for the tourney. Your uncle Jaime has something he needs to talk to you about."

Rohanne tilted her head in confusion and turned to her uncle. Jaime's face darken and Cersei knew that he was not pleased at her interference. Alas, she knew him far too well - had she left the matter up to him he would never have broached the topic.

It had to be done, for Rohanne's own good. The girl might not see it now, but her mother was looking out for her best interests, as always.

* * *

Later when Rohanne arrived back to her chamber with red eyes to match the slowly bruising handprint on her cheek, Cersei didn't comment.

They discussed dresses and all manner of other things, but Rohanne did not even pretend to be interested – the girl retired to bed early and Cersei did not fight it.

Sometimes what was best wasn't at all simple. But she would guard her children as much as they needed, and if that meant keeping Jaime away from them, so be it.

Cersei was a lioness and a lioness did whatever necessary to protect her cubs.

No matter what it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth and final prologue. This one is a little bit shorter than the others but it's not any less important. The next update will be the first proper chapter of the story, from Rohanne's perspective at last. The main chapters are much longer than the prologues, so I think you'll all enjoy them. Thank you for all the feedback, and I'll see you next Friday!


	5. 1: A Death and Its Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral and the announcement that follows.
> 
> Rohanne makes a new friend and deals with the fallout.

Rohanne I

The smell was blinding; the scented rose that she kept pinned to the neck of her gown did nothing to disguise the horrific scent. Dead bodies had that unique stench that wrenched at your stomach with brutal efficiency and threatened to send you running for the chamber pot.

She wasn't standing close to the deceased but she could see the single but steady drip of white fluid onto the polished marble floor. She knew that he had been embalmed, of course. The presence of the seven jars placed around his feet proved it, each filled with various body organs that sped up the process of rotting – so if each were removed, it slowed the process.

Something appeared to have gone wrong however, as the body had bloated quickly anyway. Someone, probably one of the Silent Sisters since few others would willingly touch a dead body, had clearly not been as careful as she should have been and his skin had ruptured. Hence the fluid.

Rohanne wondered if she should be sad.

She had known Jon Arryn all of her life. From the day she was born he had been there – quietly standing the background helping her father rule the kingdom. He had filled the kindly grandfather role in her life in a way that Tywin Lannister never could, and yet she felt nothing upon his passing besides a queer sense of vague loss.

Myrcella, on the other hand, sobbed quietly at her side, clutching Rohanne's black mourning dress. Rohanne suspected it was probably the smell, since Myrcella did not have a rose. She reached up and plucked hers off before attaching it gently to her little sister's bodice. Myrcella gave her a grateful, if watery, smile and her sobbing eventually tailed off.

She had been correct.

Rohanne began to breathe exclusively through her mouth and apart from a dimly unpleasant taste in the back of her throat, it was manageable. She sighed in relief.

Joffrey stood on the other side of their mother, a distinctively snotty pout on his face. She wasn't at all surprised at his reaction. Even death did little to sober him, since Joffrey believed he was entitled to everything his eyes touched. He looked down on Jon Arryn's corpse with a look of impatient disdain, as if it was the elder man's fault for dying and forcing Joffrey to attend. Rohanne refrained from rolling her eyes – she hadn't been particularly close to Jon but she wouldn't disrespect him as he lay in state.

Her mother's face was neutral as she stood stiff in her mourning clothes. She appeared to be entirely unbothered by the smell and Rohanne thought it was entirely possible. She had without a doubt been to more funerals than Rohanne had, so it was easy to assume that she was accustomed to it.

Rohanne thought that quite sad. She had no desire to ever become accustomed to death.

Her father had left early after muttering a few things over Jon's body and striding out of the room with scarcely a look at any of them. He was the king, however, and he could be forgiven things that they would not. Rohanne knew though that they would leave as soon as they could without being indecent. Her mother had not been fond of the Hand and they weren't family, so they wouldn't be expected to stay much longer.

She thought she knew why her father was in such a poor mood, though. Jon had been like a father figure to him and the loss must have affected him – yet she suspected it was likely the matter of Jon's widow that troubled him. It was well known that Lady Lysa was… touched, but no one had expected her to abscond from the capital with her son and make a frantic escape back to the Vale for no clear reason. Add to the fact that this was against her father's explicit wishes…

King's Landing was rarely boring.

Her mother tapped her arm gently. She looked up and began to follow as they made their way quietly from the sept, grabbing Myrcella's hand to bring her along with them.

She shrugged off the dark, cloying shroud of the sept like a wet cloak and took a deep breath of fresh air. It smelled rather like shit, but the wind was refreshing and the sun threatened to burst through the clouds so it was a significant improvement. She allowed Myrcella to relax for a few minutes before walking down with her to the foot of the steps. Joffrey and their mother went on ahead, setting off in their litter without a backwards glance.

There was a small crowd of people standing just past the wall of knights, all of them talking amongst themselves. Upon catching sight of the two girls walking down the steps, a few shouted 'princess!' but were soon hushed by the guards. She gave a courteous wave before stepping into the litter with as much grace and speed as she could, Myrcella following.

The litter was small but any view to the outside was covered by a lace screen, so once it was lifted she flopped back on the cushions and sighed in relief.

"Thank the gods that's over." Rohanne said, drooping an arm over her eyes.

Myrcella giggled and covered her mouth.

"Rohanne!" She said, scandalised but giggled again when her sister blew a raspberry and flicked her hand dismissively.

"I hate funerals, although that one wasn't so bad. The one I went to in Storm's End with uncle Renly was infinitely worse – the woman who died was so grossly fat, little sister, that her gut hung over the edges of the table."

Myrcella sniggered but soon remembered her manners and blushed.

"Wasn't she our cousin?" She said.

Rohanne shrugged. "A relation of some sort. I only had to go because uncle Renly did, and  _he_ only had to go because it was expected. We were dreadfully bored the whole time. In truth, it ruined the whole trip."

It hadn't ruined the whole trip, but Rohanne didn't want to make Myrcella jealous. Uncle Renly had invited all the royal children to spend a moon at Storm's End just before the harvest last year, but her mother had prevented Myrcella and Tommen from going on the grounds of being too young – while Joffrey had been extremely vocal with his thoughts about the idea.

Rohanne ended up being the only one who went and she had a grand time. Uncle Renly loved the finer things in life and he lived to enjoy them all. Her mother called him a hedonist but her time spent there had been delightful; filled with feasts, balls and hunts. It helped they were so close in age – Renly was only eleven years her elder, so he felt more like a much older brother than an uncle.

In such a small space of time she had grown accustomed to her uncle's charisma and joyful personality – returning to her strained family had been quite sobering.

She loved them with all her heart but no one could deny that very few of them were able to tolerate one another. Yet there was little to be done and Renly had offered to host her again, although she doubted her mother would allow it.

"Who will be the new Hand?" Myrcella asked after some time listening to the noises outside.

"I'm not sure; it's up to father."

"But it would it not have to be someone he trusts?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

Myrcella hesitated before speaking. "I overheard mother trying to convince father to choose uncle Jaime, but father doesn't trust uncle Jaime."

"What do you mean by that, sweetling? Of course father trusts uncle Jaime – he is a member of his Kingsguard after all. He protects him." Rohanne said.

Myrcella had no need to get dragged into the family politics, she was so young.

"No, he doesn't. I heard him shout it after mother spoke."

Rohanne frowned.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, Myrcella. Father and mother are the king and queen. They discuss very important matters that no one else can hear, not even you." She chided.

Myrcella looked down. "I know, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. But…"

"What?"

"Who would he choose then? If not uncle Jaime, then who?"

Rohanne shook her head slowly, looking out past the thin screen to the Red Keep that was just coming into view.

"I don't know, Myrcella. I suppose it would have to be someone he does trust."

* * *

"His grace the King requests your and your sibling's presence in the throne room, princess."

Rohanne looked up with a smile, setting her unfinished needlework on the table. The Lord Commander of her father's Kingsguard stood just inside the doorway, his frame large and broad despite his advanced age. Her uncle Jaime remained her favourite of the order despite everything but if she had to choose a second favourite, it would be Ser Barristan Selmy. His wild adventures were famous and his place in various well-known battles were even more so. This combined with his strict code of morals and honour led to a reputation as sterling as any alive today.

He was also uncommonly kind to his king's children, maintaining a warm but respectful relationship with all of them but the eldest. Yet that was hardly his fault – The Bold may be the archetype for a true knight, but Joffrey was a different beast entirely.

Her older brother repudiated most forms of positive relationships. He had a good one with their mother though, and another being a one-sided desperate grasp for attention from their father. Rohanne could say with relative confidence that she was also another, although she was hesitant to call what she and Joffrey had, entirely positive. He was wildly changeable, flitting from emotion to emotion like the movement of the current; she did her best to ride his moods out, but it depended entirely on whether he felt like allowing her to. She could recall a time when everyone in the Keep referred to them as the twins because of their close age and closer relationship – that hadn't entirely changed.

In a way, he was predictable despite his tempestuous personality – she could rely on him to be emotional and angry. This gave her some measure of influence over him although she did not tend to use it often. While he wasn't prone to allowing people to control him, he was usually open to her suggestions if they were worded appropriately.

Her relationship with Joffrey was as complex as anything ever could be, yet in a strange way she loved and trusted him in spite of all he had ever done.

Well – she trusted him to act in his nature, at least.

"Of course, Ser Barristan. Please tell my father we will be there promptly." She said as she stood up and smoothed the creases out of her skirts.

"I am to wait here to escort you, princess. Your father's orders."

It was rather unusual for any of the Kingsguard to bother with her while they were in the Red Keep. Since she had passed twelve namedays, it was generally considered that she no longer needed to be regularly guarded in her own home. She was also not the crown princess; therefore she didn't qualify for a personal guard like Joffrey did. Whenever she left the keep, it was usually with her family – so she was included in the bulk protection of the family.

The last time Rohanne remembered being guarded solely by a Kingsguard, she had been thirteen. An assassin had tried his hand at her father's life but had been swiftly introduced to a blade instead and for two weeks afterwards her father had insisted all his children be protected carefully. It had also been one of the rare times when he had bothered to show affection for them publicly.

"Of course, ser. I'll fetch Myrcella and Tommen, although I am afraid I do not know where Joffrey is."

"Prince Joffrey is already in the throne room with your mother the Queen, princess." He said.

"Very well. A moment, ser."

Ser Barristan moved back outside the main door as she walked into her bedchamber proper and slipped behind her dressing screen.

Rohanne was lucky in that she had been given one of the royal bedrooms with a larger solar, better to suit her growing collection of books. The view of the city was perhaps not the best but her uncle Tyrion had a habit of gifting her with whatever books he thought might catch her fancy, along with others filled with information that he believed she should know. These were all shelved in order along the walls and the one she was currently reading was on her desk in the corner.

To the side of the desk was a door that lead out to a small alcove, barely enough for one person to stand on. It allowed in a good deal of fresh air, however. On those hot, sticky nights, Rohanne would bar open this small door and the one between her solar and bedchamber. This combined with the open door to the terrace at the side of her bedchamber caused a good circulation of air, cooling the room quickly. Of course, it had the exact opposite effect on stormy days.

Rohanne's chambers were high in one of the towers, subject to all manner of fearsome winds – if she was lax in barring any of the doors shut the temperature of the room would drop drastically.

Dalla arrived behind the curtain holding a deep red dress with yellow birds embroidered across the bodice. It was a dress far better suited to court than the mustard coloured monstrosity – as her mother called it – she currently wore. In her defence, she thought as she started to strip it off, it was very comfortable.

"Does this dress please you, princess?" Dalla asked, holding up her choice closer with one hand as she helped unlace Rohanne's dress with the other.

Her lady's maid was Dalla Hill, a bastard of House Swyft who got her position through Rohanne's great uncle Kevan's wife Dorna, who was a Swyft by birth. Dalla's father was Steffon Swyft; Dorna's younger brother who had gotten a babe on one of the seamstresses in Cornfield, but at least had the decency to acknowledge her – much to the consternation of his wife. The Swyfts were only landed knights, but it paid to be married into House Lannister – hence how one essentially lowborn bastard rose to become the lady's maid of a princess.

Dalla's birth didn't bother Rohanne overly much; the girl was only one year her senior but at ease with all her responsibilities and she was an excellent listener. Rohanne considered her a friend of sorts – at least, as much a friend as a princess can be with her servant.

"Yes, Dalla, I think it will do quite nicely." Rohanne said as she threw the worn dress over the top of the dressing screen and stepped into the crimson gown.

Rohanne occasionally liked to honour her mother's house with a spectacular show of Lannister colours. It never failed to bring a proud smile to her face and Rohanne had a distinct fondness for making her mother happy, even though she knew the red dress would likely make her father frown.

The dark red complimented her dark hair and pale skin in a way that the bright did not, so the dress that Dalla picked would be much more suitable. She had no desire to look sickly in front of the court.

Dalla quickly checked to make sure her corset was tight enough before she laced up the red gown, as it was far less forgiving than the mustard one she had just taken off. The lady's maid then quickly unhooked Rohanne's braid from where it had been pinned in a tight bun at the back of her head – maidens were to have their hair entirely or partially down, as was the current fashion in court. A fashion that she had probably started, but one she now had to follow like everyone else.

With her hair and her gown sorted, she allowed Dalla to powder her face lightly before she went to join Ser Barristan who was waiting patiently outside her chamber.

"Shall we fetch my siblings now, ser?"

"Aye, I'll follow your lead, princess."

Rohanne quickly marched on knowing that Ser Barristan was perfectly capable of keeping pace with her. Servants greeted her in the corridors and on the stairs as she made her way to the children's playroom, which was located just off from the now unused nursery.

The playroom was the size of a large bedchamber, filled with various toys and games. The toys were exquisite, small dolls and model animals fashioned from the finest materials and sourced from far off locales such as Pentos and Qarth – it was said that the black carving of a winged horse which sat on a high shelf came from as far as Asshai-by-the-Shadow, although no one could prove it. Various board games and activities were placed around the room, some suitable for all ages and others not. Her uncle Tyrion was said to be trying to source a new strategy game that began in one of the Free Cities, but it was proving elusive for him to find for them.

There were some chairs around the room as well, along with two bookshelves. The colourful painted walls curved round in a pleasant circle to the balcony doors, which led out to a modest terrace with a slightly higher barrier for the safety of the children.

Rohanne remembered playing here with Joffrey as a child, before they grew older – and then she had played with Myrcella. She had been too old by the time Tommen was grown enough, but that hadn't stopped her from coming to visit him anyway. Joffrey avoided this place with a vengeance, since he was greatly occupied with how his image was perceived – playing with toys and his younger siblings was distinctly below him. Rohanne didn't protest, since Myrcella and Tommen didn't want him here anyway.

"Rohanne!" Tommen called out as she entered the room.

He ran over and threw his arms around her waist, burying his face into her stomach. Rohanne laughed and petted his head softly.

"Hello Tommen, how have you been today?"

"I've been well, the kennelmaster's son brought up some of the puppies for us to see!"

Only then did Rohanne spot the man standing in the corner next to Myrcella. Upon seeing he caught her attention, he bowed.

"Princess, forgive me. My name's Alyn. I thought the little prince and princess might like to see the hounds. I got permission from m'lord Hand afore he died…"

Rohanne took the measure of him. He was scrawny with thin wrists and a sharp nose that was slightly too small for his face, but the wisp of facial hair placed him at around eighteen. His brown eyes were flat and unremarkable as was his short hair but he held two puppies in his arms, rubbing the floppy ear of one as it yawned. There was a kindness in him as he glanced to the other one cuddled in Myrcella's arms where she sat on the floor.

"There is nothing to forgive, however I am afraid I must cut the time short – my father the King requests my siblings and I."

Alyn bowed silently and put the two puppies into a large basket before reaching for the one in Myrcella's arms as she pouted.

"Sorry, little princess. You'd better do as your sister says." He mumbled and placed the last puppy in with the rest.

"Please come back later, Alyn! I should like to see them again!" Myrcella pleaded.

Their mother would be affronted to hear any of her children talking to the servants in such a way but Rohanne didn't have the heart to correct her. Myrcella truly was her family's joy. She had an undercurrent of innocence and pure goodness that they all treasured and Rohanne would always do her best to protect it.

Alyn glanced at Rohanne and she nodded once.

"I'd be happy to, princess. Bye."

"Goodbye Alyn!"

"Goodbye!"

The kennelmaster's son bowed once more to Rohanne and went to leave the room.

"A moment."

She reached into the basket and a smile rose to her lips as tiny tongues licked her hand. She stroked each of them slowly, enjoying the feeling of their silky fur under her fingers. One of them growled weakly in that way that puppies do and she felt as he began to chew on her little finger.

"Are these to become hunting hounds?"

Alyn blushed for a minute under the scrutiny but cleared his throat and continued valiantly.

"Aye, princess."

She looked back at the puppy chewing on her finger. He was black along his face and back, but she could see from the way he was lying that his stomach and legs were tan. His long droopy ears were black too, and his wet nose sniffled into her palm as his mouth let go of her finger.

Rohanne felt her heart lurch and had to stop herself rolling her eyes. This was ridiculous. She was a Baratheon and a Lannister, she would not grow weak willed by some pet.

She reached in and lifted out the puppy. He snuffled and sneezed as she rested him on her chest, so she stroked him again.

"Do you think perhaps your father could spare this little one, Alyn?"

He was silent for a moment in shock and spluttered when he realised he was keeping her waiting.

"Yes, princess, I'm sure he'd be honoured for you to have one of our pups. She's a good one too, fine tempered. She'll do you well."

"She?" She asked, surprised.

"… Yes, princess."

Rohanne looked back down at the little pup in her arms. It was an awful idea. She didn't have the time. She would probably be married soon. Joffrey was also a factor to consider – he was extraordinarily unpredictable. She sometimes resented that he held such influence over her life, but her mother would always take up her eldest son's position and her father could not care less for the 'unimportant' matters in his children's lives. The only one who would defend Rohanne, was Rohanne.

Normally… sometimes, she accepted Joffrey's actions to avoid conflict. Trying usually got her a split cheek and a bruise, so she tended not to if only to make her life easier. But this pup was going to be hers – so if it was a fight brewing, fight she would.

"She is lovely, Alyn. Thank you, and please extend my thanks to your father." She said as the kennelmaster's son bowed once more and left.

"Rohanne, you have a puppy now!" Myrcella said as she ran up to her, petting the puppy gently. "She is very cute, what will you call her?"

"I don't know, 'Cella." Rohanne said as she scratched the pup's ear again. "I'll have to think of one. What do you think, Tommen?"

Tommen was standing an armlength away, his arms crossed. His eyes were watery.

"Joffrey's going to hurt her." He said, a wobble in his voice.

Rohanne's face softened and she knelt in front of him, taking his hand.

"No he won't, Tommen."

"Yes, he will! He hurts everything." His voice fell to a whisper.

"No he won't Tommen, because I won't let him." She said sharply, cupping his face in her hand. "I won't let him."

"How?" He said hoarsely.

"I will talk to him, convince him not to – he'll listen to me. And if he doesn't, I'll stop him if he tries. Perhaps I'll spank him with uncle Jaime's sword." She whispered just loud enough for the two to hear.

Myrcella gasped behind her but Tommen giggled just for a second and Rohanne winked in response.

"Come on then, you two. Father has asked for us in the throne room. We'd best not keep him waiting any longer than necessary." She said as she stood up again.

"What about the puppy? Are you taking her to court?"

"Of course not. I'm sure your nursemaid wouldn't mind bringing him to Dalla? Tell her to fetch the pup some food and take care of her until I return." She asked, pointing the order to the woman who had been standing silently against the far wall.

The nursemaid curtsied. "Of course, princess."

Rohanne gave the pup's downy head a small peck before handing her over to the maid. The puppy gave a slight whine and she smiled.

"Don't worry, little darling, I'll see you soon."

She turned to Tommen and Myrcella who had straightened their clothes. They looked well enough and she placed a hand on each shoulder and guided them to the doors.

"Come on then, let's go."

* * *

Rohanne stood on the steps leading up to the Iron Throne along with her siblings, staring out over the court from her elevated position.

She could feel the scrutiny as their beady eyes pierced into her. Each of them were desperate to use the royal family in any way they could – some for position, some for wealth and the rest of power. None of them could be trusted, mother always said, only family. Rohanne was inclined to believe her as she felt the judgement in their probing glares, like a predator sizing up its juicy prey.

They needed to be reminded that her family were far from prey. Mother always said that lions did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep and while Baratheons were stags, they had their fury, didn't they?

There was at least one kind face in the room though. Lady Meliana Errol, youngest child of Shyra Errol, lady of Haystack Hall. Rohanne could see her standing next to her brother Sebastion to the left of the hall – Meliana was blessed with the blonde hair of her mother and cursed with her father's exceptional lack of height.

Rohanne can only barely see her fair head standing next to her taller brother, but Meliana still beamed happily when she caught Rohanne's eye. It was a smile Rohanne was hard-pressed not to return but she restrained herself to a twitch of the lips, knowing her mother's reaction should she be so uncontrolled in public.

Meliana was one of the only good things her father had ever done truly for her. Rohanne had been ten when her father had begun to think she was lonely while having a spontaneous fit of fatherly feelings. House Errol were extremely loyal and sworn to Storm's End; Shyra Errol had been delighted to provide her daughter, perhaps to grow some refinement in her. A week later and a blonde ten-year-old with a large nose and squint teeth was given residence in the Red Keep as a companion to Princess Rohanne. Even at that point Rohanne had already been taller than Meliana and the little lady was fiercely sensitive over her lack of height.

Within a day Rohanne had made a rude comment so Meliana had thumped her stomach hard – and a friendship was born. Meliana's teeth had straightened slightly and her nose was beginning to match the size of her face; but little else had changed.

She was Rohanne's closest and dearest friend, to the disapproval of her mother. Cersei thought Meliana to be an unmannered little beast even now she was grown and matured – but there was little she could do against Robert's command.

The arrival of Meliana had kindled some warm feelings in Rohanne towards her father but they hadn't lasted long in the face of his overwhelming disinterest. She loved him yet it was a distant kind of love – not quite obligation but something taken for granted nonetheless. He was her father, she assumed she had to love him, even when she didn't particularly feel it.

Speaking of her father.

"Quiet!" He roared after the last supplicant shuffled back to join the crowd.

Silence fell quickly.

"I have an announcement to make." Her father's voice boomed, reaching the height of the highest rafters.

"I will be travelling north to visit House Stark. The party will depart in three days." He said, seemingly unaware of the shocked mumbling that followed his statement.

Rohanne could see her mother's face sour from the corner of her eye and the pensive looks on the faces of the small council from where they stood just below the throne. Her uncle Stannis was master of ships yet he had departed immediately after Jon Arryn's death. Uncle Renly remained as master of laws, while Lord Baelish and Lord Varys were master of coin and master of whisperers respectively. Of course, there was also Maester Pycelle, Ser Barristan and lastly the Hand of the King – the position which needed filled.

It dawned on Rohanne that perhaps this journey her father was undertaking would be something to do with selecting a new Hand. Her father wasn't entirely misguided, he knew that he needed a Hand and he needed one immediately – and royal visits were not usually conducted under such haste. It had to be the reason.

"I will be joined by the queen and my children. That will be all."

Rohanne barely heard her mother's agitated snarl through her own shocked outrage. Why on earth did father want them all to come!? Rohanne had absolutely no desire to go north. Her dear ones, her learning, the politics – all the things that she enjoyed were here, in King's Landing. There was nothing for her up there, in the cold frozen wastelands ruled by the Starks. Her dismay was mirrored on Myrcella's face, but Tommen looked excited.

"But father, must I go?" Joffrey said in too quiet a voice to be heard by the court.

Rohanne didn't see anything good coming of Joffrey complaining to their father. He was rarely lenient and he had no love for his eldest son.

"Enough whimpering boy! You'll do as you're told." Her father nearly shouted, his swollen cheeks flushing red. His hand twitched where it lay on the armrest and Joffrey flinched a fraction in response.

She saw the exact moment her mother saw Joffrey's reaction.

"He speaks sense." Cersei hissed disgustedly. "It's a fool's errand going north – what is there but ice and mud waiting for us?"

Robert's face turned redder and his hand fisted.

"You'll do as you're bloody well told, woman. We're going north and that's the end of it." He looked at Myrcella, Tommen and herself individually. "Do any of you have something to say or will you keep your mouths shut and do as you are bid?"

Rohanne agreed fully with her mother and Joffrey, a remarkable event. It was terribly unfair being forced to leave. Yet she had no desire to draw his rage onto her, as a large part of her cowered at the thought of it.

Nearly everyone said that Rohanne resembled him enormously – but apart from her dark hair she could not understand it. She was certain that no one feared and hated her as they did he, especially her family. Rohanne never wanted anyone to fear her rage. It was a hard truth to consider – she was a mediocre Baratheon at best.

She had no fury.

"No, father."

"Good."

And with that Robert stumbled down off the throne and marched through the swathes of people, trailed loyally by his Kingsguard. Rohanne was left staring after him in frustration, wondering what was to come.

* * *

That evening, Rohanne was once again sitting in her small solar. The book she was reading was 'A History of Dragons' – a copy of a long lost Valyrian original transcribed by one archmaester or another a century ago. The entire thing was rumoured to be inaccurate, influenced by the archmaester's own bias and missing several key details which conflicted with the faith of the Seven. But it was the best there was, especially now her father was king. Robert had destroyed much of the Targaryen histories and relics as he ascended to the throne, unfortunately forgetting that Targaryen history was also Westerosi history.

There was little to be done now though – she had to make do with the best they had, and the best was a gift from her uncle Tyrion. He had found dragons even more fascinating than she did when he was a child and he had been delighted to loan her some of his books on the matter when she showed an interest.

However, any further reading she might have done that night was interrupted when the door to her chamber flew open, bouncing off the wall and slamming shut again.

"This is ridiculous!" A voice shouted and the sound of her bed creaking followed as her noisy visitor threw himself onto it.

Rohanne sighed quietly and placed a bookmark to keep her place before rising to meet him. She stopped and leaned on the doorway, holding her hands together in front of her.

He lay upside down on the bed, his long blond hair tousled and one arm thrown over his face. His booted feet lay on one of her pillows but she didn't complain.

"I cannot believe that father is making us go north, of all places! The last thing I wish to do is set one foot in that frozen hole." He said with a sneer, his handsome face creasing unattractively.

"I know, Joff. It's nonsense." Rohanne agreed.

She walked towards the bed and lay down on the other side with her back against the headboard. Immediately, Joffrey rearranged himself until his head was resting on her lap. She began to run a hand through his soft hair, untangling it gently.

Joffrey had always been a very tactile boy, ever since they were young. He loved to be touched, as if he could only believe his family's love if they constantly proved it to him – Rohanne didn't mind it too much. The problem was that he loved to touch in return. Often that meant simply holding her hand and throwing an arm around her, which was perfectly fine, but he would sometimes hit and injure as well. The root of it was that she didn't think he was entirely aware of why it was wrong.

His hands jerked in the air, accentuating his words as he spoke.

"I do not see why we must visit these Starks – northern savages, probably used to sleeping on hay and shitting with the dogs. I wouldn't be surprised if Winterfell is nothing more than a collection of caves, it would suit them and their backwards ways well." Joffrey spat, looking up at Rohanne expectantly.

She nodded.

"I know, Joff. I have no desire to go north. There is nothing for either of us there, except perhaps frostbite. I wonder if there are any parts of the Starks left flesh, or if they are all just walking frozen statues." There was a little venom into her voice and it got the desired reaction when Joffrey gave a mirthful snort.

"With any luck at all, the visit will be short and we will be back in King's Landing before the start of the last harvest."

Joffrey sat up, alarmed. "You do not actually think we will be there so long? That's moons away!"

Rohanne nodded once. "I think it's possible. Lord Stark is father's closest friend; it's likely that he will want to stay for at least a moon, perhaps two or three."

Joffrey snorted and hit the bed hard. Rohanne did not flinch, instead putting a calming hand on his shoulder. His face was twisted in his wrath when he turned to look at her.

"However, there's the matter of the Hand to account for."

She coaxed him gradually back down until he was lying next to her on the other pillow. She then took one of his hands and began to rub it soothingly.

"Such a long visit would be acceptable if there were a Hand in the Red Keep ruling the kingdom in father's stead, but there is not. If truth be told, I believe that this visit to the north is actually so that father can choose a new one – you no doubt concluded that yourself, brother." Rohanne spoke slowly.

"Hence, if he is going north to choose a Hand…"

"There is no one left to rule the kingdom, so the visit cannot be longer than a moon." Joffrey finished, a gleam appearing in his eye.

"Indeed. It will take at least a moon to journey to Winterfell and a moon to journey back – that means father will be away from the Red Keep for a minimum of three moons. As a king without a hand, he genuinely cannot be away any longer than that, even if the small council step in and take on some of his duties. In fact…" Rohanne trailed off for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"What?" Joffrey asked impatiently.

"I think, perhaps… father intends to ask Lord Stark to serve as his Hand."

"Surely not. What good would Stark be here? He knows nothing about ruling in the south – his experience ruling over wildings and sheep won't help him." Joffrey scoffed.

"But he is father's friend. He trusts him."

"It is still absurd that we must go too." Joffrey said, a slight pout forming on his face.

Rohanne smiled. "I know that well enough – but father's word is law. We can hunt together on the journey; mother can hardly watch me the whole time."

A bloodthirsty grin appeared on Joffrey's face. "I'll finally get to prove who the better of us is."

"We both know it will be me, Joff." She said teasingly, laughing when he punched her shoulder hard.

"Only in your dreams."

"Oh, that reminds me! I've something to ask you."

Rohanne stood up quickly and moved to the side of the bed. There was a small pile of blankets, upon which her new puppy lay sleeping. This could either go reasonably well or incredibly badly – but Rohanne had some experience in gaining Joffrey's favour, and keeping secrets was the first mistake.

She lifted the puppy into her arms and sat back on the bed again. Joffrey's face was indecipherable, but he watched her closely.

"I got this little thing today from the kennel, I was hoping that you would help me with her."

Joffrey's eyes narrowed. "I'm not helping you with some runt, Ro."

Rohanne laughed lightly and shook her head.

"It's not that kind of help I need at all, brother. I wondered if you could help me name her."

Joffrey looked up from the puppy to her and rolled his eyes.

"Why should I care what the bloody thing is called?" He asked, crossing his arms and looking away.

Rohanne knew that look. He was jealous – a reaction she had expected.

"Well, hopefully she will live a long while – long enough that I will still have her when I am sent away to marry." She said, her voice filled with revulsion at the idea. Rohanne had less than no desire to marry, but that was another matter.

"I will be sent away from all of my family – including you, brother. I would like something to help remind me of you when I am gone."

"A blasted hound is going to remind you of me?" He said disgustedly, his lips pursed.

Rohanne didn't react. "It will if you name her, brother. I will be able to look at her and remember you helping me do so – she will keep me company when I have no family near, and I can remember how it felt to have you all here with me."

Joffrey was silent for a moment before waving his hand dismissively.

"It's simple then. When I am king, I will refuse to allow you to marry."

Rohanne was struck silent, her brother's words entirely unexpected. Her chest clenched in hope, as her mouth opened slightly and her eyes grew wide. Her hold on the pup tightened.

"You… you would do that for me?"

Joffrey looked at her as if she was an idiot.

"You are my sister. Your place is here with me." He finished as if it was simple, as if he hadn't just promised to make Rohanne's biggest wish come true.

The puppy escaped as she let her go, jumping up onto her pillow and chewing on the lace. Rohanne dived across the bed and wrapped her arms tightly around her brother.

"Oh, thank you Joff!"

He tolerated it for a few moments before he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her away hard.

"Ugh, get off me!" He said with distaste.

She hissed in pain at her sore head and let him go, but her grin was unmoved. He rolled his eyes again upon seeing it, but he did not seem displeased by her gratitude.

And then realisation hit her.

"But you shan't be king for years, Joff." She said, her grin dropping in dismay.

Joffrey shrugged. "Then you'll marry, and once I am king I'll dissolve it."

He spotted her frown and waved his hand in frustration.

"If that isn't good enough, sister, then go and spread your legs for a stable boy. You sure as the seven hells won't get married then."

She huffed angrily. "Joff!"

"What?" He hissed back.

She grunted again and threw herself back onto the bed, grabbing the puppy and snuggling it into her chest.

They said nothing for a moment.

"You know I can't do that. Father would be furious." She whispered.

"… I know."

Rohanne and Joffrey were two very different people. Rohanne was relatively calm, Joffrey was wild. Rohanne was usually tried to use her head, Joffrey was emotional. They were like their mother and uncle Jaime; a complimenting, not matching pair. They balanced each other out  _due to_ , not  _despite_  their differences.

Yet one thing they truly had in common was the shared fear of their father.

"So, there's nothing to be done then?" She said desperately.

In an exceptionally rare moment of tenderness, she felt him take her hand.

"I swear to you, sister, I will annul any marriage father forces on you. It doesn't matter what it takes, you will come back to us."

"And if I have children?" She asked.

"Don't."

"It isn't that easy, Joff."

"I don't care."

She sighed and he ignored her.

"Until then…" She felt his hand tighten over hers painfully and she bit her tongue to avoid crying out.

"Call it Flame."

His hand released hers and she made herself laugh.

"Someone has been reading up on his history. I'm not sure this little one is going to be able to stand up to such a name, though – if there is any Dornish blood in her, I'd be surprised."

Joffrey shrugged, uncaring. "Then call it Rain."

Rohanne looked down at her puppy, with her floppy ears and wet nose which pressed into her collarbone.

"Rain… I like it."

"Thank the Seven that's over."

Rohanne rolled her eyes. "My apologies, have I wasted so much of your valuable time?"

Joffrey nipped her inner arm roughly and she shouted in shock.

"Hey!"

She made to hit him when he did it again. He caught her hand and squeezed, his teeth bared when she squeezed back just as hard.

He leaned forward as if to bite her and she kicked out her legs, a foot colliding with his knee and knocking his balance off. He dropped fast to the bed, his head landing on her stomach hard and winding her. She pushed him off while gasping for breath and soon started laughing.

He joined her laughter for a moment before nipping her arm one last time and throwing himself off the bed. She hissed at him before waving him away.

"Go and terrorise someone else, Joff." She said, rubbing her wounds.

He gave her a wicked smirk before casually throwing a discarded book at one of her vases along the wall. It shattered upon impact, fine porcelain flying across the floor.

"By the Seven- Joffrey!"

She got up off the bed with another, larger book in her hand and chased him from the room.

By the time she reached the door, he was halfway down the corridor. She threw the book after him as hard as she could but it only glanced across his heel, causing no damage.

He chuckled and turned around, giving her a rather sinister look.

"That wasn't meant to hit me, was it sister?"

She glared at him.

"You know perfectly well it was – too bad it didn't knock the grin off your ugly face."

He shot towards her. She squealed loudly and rushed back inside her chamber, throwing the door shut and pushing against it with all her weight. She grunted in exertion as he pushed with all his strength on the other side. Her delicate slippers slid against the polished stone floor and she felt the door beginning to give.

Rohanne was of equal height to Joffrey despite the age and gender discrepancy, but he was far more prepared for a physical battle than she was in her thin dress and slippers.

"My prince?" A distant voice said, and Rohanne sighed in relief.

The pressure from the other side of the door vanished but Rohanne didn't abandon her post just yet.

"Yes?" She heard Joffrey spit out, annoyance plain in his voice.

"Your mother the Queen is requesting to see you."

"Fine."

He slammed a hand hard against the door and Rohanne jumped at the bang.

"Saved just in the nick of time, little sister." He said, his voice poisonous.

"As always, a pleasure having your company, brother. Do send mother my love." She said sweetly.

She heard footsteps as he walked away. She waited until he was far down the corridor before sticking her head out again.

"Oh, and brother?"

The large book was flung back towards her and she dodged back inside the doorway just in time as it sailed through the spot where her head had been.

They knew one another far too well.

She looked back out again and was met with him standing right in front of her.

"If you see her, do send Dalla to me."

She presented her cheek to him and he pressed a familial kiss to it through his malicious grin.

"Of course, sweet sister. Goodnight."

He took one last swipe at her hand and his sharp nails tore her skin in three long scratches. She smacked his arm away and covered the painful lines with her other hand.

"By the-  _goodnight_ , Joff." She said, frowning as her hand throbbed. His returning smile was saccharine.

Rohanne shut the door in his face and rolled her eyes as she heard him walk away. She held up the injured arm to inspect it, turning it this way and that to get the best view. They weren't at all deep, only one was enough to allow some blood to escape.

She hummed thoughtfully and looked back over to the bed where Rain was curled up on one of her pillows, thoroughly undisturbed by events. Perhaps the pup would fit in well with them after all.

As she reached up to scratch an itch behind her ear, a thin stream of blood trickled down her wrist and stained the cuff of her dress. She wiped it away absentmindedly.

There was a soft knock at the door and Dalla slipped inside.

"What can I do for you, princess?" She spoke quietly, her hands held politely in front of her.

"I think I will retire to bed early tonight. Help me into my nightclothes?"

"Of course, princess."

Dalla retrieved a long nightgown from the wardrobe and Rohanne walked behind her dressing screen. She undid as much of her laces as she could, and allowed Dalla to do the rest. The dress dropped to the floor and the red mark on the sleeve reminded her.

"Oh. Also, find me a bandage to cover this."

Rohanne held up her arm to show it and Dalla frowned. The maid took the arm gently and inspected the marks.

"You are injured, princess? Would you like me to fetch the maester?" She said, concern evident in her voice.

"No, no." Rohanne waved away the suggestion nonchalantly. "A piece of cloth will do. Perhaps the ones I use for my courses."

Dalla hesitated for a moment.

"Are you certain, princess? It looks rather painful."

"Don't concern yourself; I'm fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update! I'm changing my update day from Friday to Wednesday, since I now have work on Fridays. Why Wednesday? It's a good day.  
> You guys have NO IDEA how many times I edited this chapter. More than ten times, at least. Joffrey is such a tough character to write and I really wanted to do the relationship between him and Rohanne justice while keeping most of his personality. Speaking of Rohanne, what are your first impressions? Also, I'm aiming to have all the main chapters around this length - thoughts?  
> Thanks again for all the support, and I would love it if you could give me some feedback on my first proper chapter - I'm hoping it turned out okay! I'll be back with an update next Wednesday :)
> 
> Next week: Preparations and Departure.


	6. 2: Preparations and Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last minute preparations and important conversations.
> 
> Rohanne learns she will have pleasant company on the road and is briefly forced to consider her future.

Rohanne II

Rohanne supervised Dalla carefully as she packed her belongings – they were leaving early tomorrow morning and there were still some things to be done.

The entire keep came alive after her father’s announcement. People were everywhere, scurrying around as they rushed to do their assigned tasks – peace was near impossible to find.

Something which was only proven as there was a knock at her chamber door. She stopped leaning against the bedpost and straightened her dress.

“Come in.”

Somehow, she wasn’t at all surprised when Meliana entered holding a tray of cakes and a flagon of drink that Rohanne thought was probably wine. A grin appeared the moment she saw Rohanne and she winked as she held up her gifts.

“For you, my princess.” Meliana said with what was supposed to be a lascivious smirk, an expression that was entirely too old for her. Rohanne rolled her eyes.

Meliana took that as permission. Walking past Rohanne swiftly, she skipped down the two steps and set down her wares on the table with a flourish. Her skirts flared as she spun round and pulled out a chair before dropping onto it like a sack of potatoes. She flicked a lazy hand.

“Leave us, Dalla.” She said before she stuffing one of the small cakes into her mouth.

Dalla turned to Rohanne with a disdainful look she wasn’t quite able to disguise, but she said nothing. Rohanne nodded once.

“Very well, princess. _My lady_.” Dalla said as sarcastically as she thought she could get away with. “Please send for me if you require anything.”

Meliana snorted and made an obscene gesture as Dalla shut the chamber door behind her.

“Bitch.”

Rohanne poured herself a glass of whatever Meliana brought – wine, which surprised no one.

“You can’t at the very least _pretend_ to like her?”

“You know perfectly well why not – Dalla is a conceited cow who is so far up your-“

“Mel!” Rohanne said sharply.

Meliana waved her hand as she bit into another cake.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Rohanne sighed and she took a sip from her glass. “Yes, you did.”

Meliana didn’t say anything, which was as good as a confession.

“Where in the world did you manage to get Lyseni white?” Rohanne said as she took another mouthful.

“Lys.” Meliana replied with a smirk, pouring herself a glass as well.

“I am serious.”

“I have my ways – a lady must keep some secrets, even from her princess.”

“You are far from a lady.” Rohanne scoffed.

“Fortunately, true. You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was anything like those simpering, condescending hens you love to surround yourself with.”

Rohanne rolled her eyes. “Hardly my choice, mother insists.“

“Well, thankfully I am here to keep you sane, just as I will be when you go north.”

Rohanne felt herself brighten and a wide smile grew on her face.

“Truly, you’re coming with us? Lady Errol gave her permission?”

Meliana laughed and nodded. “It took some convincing and Seb’s skills of persuasion, but it is official – I’m accompanying you to Winterfell. You have no excuse to forget me now.”

“I’d never forget you, Mel. Especially not now! You’ll make a dull trip much brighter.”

Meliana stuck her nose in the air. “I make everything brighter by my mere presence.”

Rohanne snorted and pretended to throw the cake she was eating at her. Meliana tilted her head back and opened her mouth as if to catch it with her teeth, while Rohanne let out a stream of giggles.

“Don’t let my mother see you doing that, she’ll have your hide.”

Meliana’s mouth twitched as it always did when planning mischief.

“Gods, we are going to drive her to madness, aren’t we? What fun.”

“You mean _you_ are going to do that. I am going to be a dreadfully dull, well-behaved princess who sits in the wheelhouse and sews for the entire journey.”

Rohanne couldn’t hold back her laughter as Meliana gave her such a look of scepticism like none she had ever seen.

“I will believe that when I see it, meaning never.”

“Hear hear.”

They clinked their wineglasses together simultaneously. Rohanne looked down at hers and chewed her bottom lip.

“Perhaps we should slow the wine. I haven’t even had lunch yet.”

“Don’t be a bore.” Meliana said after she took another mouthful.

“You know mother hates it when I drink.”

“And you know that the queen isn’t here.”

“Still-“

Meliana suddenly gave a loud squeal and bent in her chair to pick up Rain from the floor. She had been playing around Rohanne’s room all morning with a ball of string, occasionally coming to chew her mistress’ hem.

“Who is this little darling?” Meliana’s voice was gentle; nothing made her softer than anything helpless and cute.

This vehemently did not include babies and young children, which Meliana avoided with an admirable singlemindedness. It wasn’t that she disliked them, more that she completely rejected the obvious reminder of her future duties – to marry and bear a husband heirs.

This would be Rohanne’s fate as well but she was… like Meliana, she loathed every reminder. She too had no desire to have children, but it was hard to imagine a life without them. She’d had the knowledge of her responsibilities taught to her since she was barely old enough to read. Her duty was to marry into a powerful family to bind them closer to the crown, giving up her title of princess and pushing out babes from between her legs until her body was worn out and her husband had no further use for her.

Sometimes she thought about things her mother said – that women had a thrall over men and if they wielded it could become powerful. It was interesting, yet whenever she thought about marriage she nearly went mad with frustration.

Only her brother’s promise gave her hope.

“Her name is Rain.” She said, crossing her ankles and tucking them under her.

“Oh, but she is a little sweetheart, isn’t she? Where did you get her?”

Meliana kept running her fingers down Rain’s back as she snuggled her closer to her chest. The pup seemed not to mind, snuffling at the strange scents on Meliana’s dress.

“The kennelmaster’s son was showing them to Myrcella and Tommen. I saw her and could not resist.”

“I cannot say I blame you, but…” Meliana trailed off, her hand stilling.

Rohanne sighed and nodded. “I know what you are going to say. I managed to convince him not to bother with her, so leave it be.”

“You did? Well, I cannot say I’m not surprised… but remember the cat.” Meliana said, looking hesitant.

“Aren’t I the one who told you about that?”

“Precisely my point.”

“… Honestly, I think he was just being curious.” Rohanne admitted.

“Curiosity should not be enough to justify gutting a pregnant creature. You remember its entrails hitting the floor.”

“How can I forget? That image kept me awake for nigh on a year.”

Meliana shook her head. “Be honest, Ro. Your _father_ kept you awake for a year, not the bloody cat.”

“Mel!” Rohanne hissed, looking pointedly at the door. “Anyone could hear you, and nobody will care you are my friend if you say such things of your king.”

“… You’re right, my apologies. But you still need to remember.”

Rohanne scowled in frustration, but nodded once. “Fine.”

 “I… hear that your brother is trying to persuade the queen to allow him to invite Florian and Jonquil along.”

Rohanne sighed, but took the bait. She had long since given up on trying to get Meliana to warm to Joffrey.

“And I am sure you are thoroughly delighted by the prospect.”

Meliana’s grin was ferocious, although a trace of remorse remained.

“Oh, indeed. Even more so once I have the opportunity to pin Jonquil’s cock to his forehead where it belongs.”

Rohanne couldn’t help it; she snorted.

“Mel, honestly. Have a little mercy on the boy, I’m almost certain he has taken a fancy to you.”

Garrett Prester and Erryk Broom were two lads from Westerland houses that her mother had summoned to be companions for Joffrey about a year after Meliana had arrived. The Red Keep was sorely lacking in children their age and Cersei had seen it as an injustice that Rohanne got a playmate her own gender and age but Joffrey did not – hence their arrival.

The three of them quickly became as thick as thieves, as young boys tend to do. But with no other children except baby Tommen and Myrcella, that meant that Rohanne and Meliana became their favourite targets for games and practical jokes alike.

Unfortunately for them, Meliana had once caught them hugging and had been out of control – it took very little to get her imagination going.

Soon she had spread the tale of Florian and Jonquil supposedly come again and with her very best effort, the names stuck. Meliana could be annoyingly persistent.

Few people, especially those who were young, used their actual names; Joffrey thought it was hilarious, but then he would.

Meliana just laughed. “Me? Hardly. He certainly doesn’t act like it – the big swine – or did he mean to kiss me when he spat at me the other day?”

“They say that’s how boys show their affection.” Rohanne teased, a small smile winning over her frown.

“Then they can keep it.”

“You realise that mother is likely to allow it, since you have been permitted to come?”

Meliana huffed. “I know. It’s the only downside to this entire situation.”

Rohanne rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

“Enter.”

A woman Rohanne had never seen before came into the room. She was past middle age, with grey hairs curling at her temples and her waist thickened with the years past. She curtsied and twisted her hands in the apron tied around her waist.

“Forgive me, princess, my lady. Dalla sent me to inquire what you would care to do for luncheon?” She asked.

“And where is Dalla?”

“She’s been summoned the housekeeper, princess. She sends her apologies.”

Rohanne ignored the sardonic look Meliana gave her.

“Of course. I think we will have our lunch here. Mel?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Good. Bring it here, please.” Rohanne said to the maid.

“Certainly, princess.”

The maid curtsied and left the room. Rohanne spotted Meliana emptying her almost full glass in a few long gulps and shouted after the woman.

“And we don’t require wine!”

* * *

 

The wind was fearsome, whipping Rohanne’s skirts into a frenzy and near blowing her off her feet. The sky was overcast but it wasn’t particularly cold despite the cloak she had thrown on before she left her chambers.

She had to get away from all of the preparations.

The only other time she had left the Red Keep for longer than a moon; she had been twelve years old and her mother had taken the children to visit Casterly Rock. They had spent four moons there in total, learning the layout and secrets of the Rock as children do. She and Joffrey had a marvellous time, barely seeing anyone in the enormous fortress of their mother’s family. It was the first time she remembered properly spending time with her grandfather Lord Tywin.

He was, on the whole, a formidable man – but she found she was not afraid of him. He was frightening in different ways to her father, and she found it was easy to avoid his wrath. If she behaved with the proper decorum expected of a princess her age and used her head, he was perfectly tolerable.

She rather liked him; he never once treated her like a child if she did not act like one. The best part was that she knew he would not hit her if he felt like it, like she feared her father would.

Her father did a few times to Joffrey and all the time to her mother, so what was to stop him doing it to her?

She _loathed_ how he hurt her mother – husbands were supposed to protect their wives, wasn’t that in their marriage vows? Her mother had protected her since she was born. There was nothing she hated more than being unable to do anything about it.

She wondered if her grandfather knew that her father hit her mother.

Surely not. He would never stand for her mother being dishonoured in such a way.

The visit to the Rock had only taken a fortnight along the gold road, with several days’ rest in Deep Den. This trip would take at least a moon with no stopping except at night. It was an intimidating venture, to say the least.

And everyone had gone mad.

The preparations were loud and constant, everyone packing and double checking everything. Arguments broke out among the maids and her mother was on fine form commanding the servants.

Rohanne didn’t see what the issue was – everything was packed away in chests for the journey, food and supplies were sorted and men were counted. Everyone who chose to come was ready and those who remained behind knew what their duties were. There was nothing else to be done, yet they managed to find reasons to be frantic anyway.

She had slipped away from her mother at the nearest opportunity, unable to bear it any more.

There was a tug at the leash in her hand and Rain barked happily, running towards a gull that was resting not far away. The bird flapped its wings and took off just as Rain ran out of leash and was pulled off her feet.

The pup recovered quickly and ran back to her mistress. She seemed unbothered by the weather but Rohanne swept her up into her arms to cuddle her under her cloak. She had a feeling Rain was going to be terribly spoiled, yet she was determined to head it off and train her correctly.

The kennelmaster, Ronnel, was accompanying them on the journey as her father had wanted his hounds with them. She would ask him for advice once they left.

She continued to walk along the red stone walls of the keep, looking out onto the bay. Other than the odd guard patrolling, she was alone and it was a great relief to have just a little time to breathe. She would have no time to herself as soon as they started travelling, best to savour it now.

“Princess.”

Alas, it seemed she spoke too soon.

She turned around and her eyes widened.

“Uncle Jaime.”

Jaime stood to attention in polished armour, his sword sheathed at his waist. His pure white Kingsguard cloak hung perfectly down his back. He looked like a hero from an old fable and Rohanne recalled a time when she thought he was a noble knight from a story.

He was the subject of many a fable regardless – but usually the cautionary ones.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, her lips pursed.

“No, princess. I had just finished my duties and saw you walking from the window.”

He gestured up to the building and Rohanne was shocked when she realised she was beneath the White Sword Tower. She must have been walking much faster than she realised to have gotten here so quickly.

“I see. Is there something I can do for you?” She said coldly.

Rohanne couldn’t read the expression on his face but it wasn’t a happy one.

“No.”

“Then excuse me, no doubt mother is looking for me.”

She strode past him back towards Maegor’s Holdfast, letting Rain down to run but holding onto her leash tightly. A fresh gust of wind grabbed her cloak and blew it about. She stepped around to regain her balance and the noise almost prevented her from hearing him.

Almost.

“I have a gift for you.”

She turned around again. He was but four paces away from her, his own white cloak being savaged by the weather as hers was. He was not knocked off balance however, standing unmoving with his hands clasped behind him.

“It is a going-away gift.”

Rohanne frowned. “Are you not coming with us?”

“No, I am, princess.”

“Then it hardly qualifies as a going-away gift, does it?” She drawled sarcastically.

Gods, she was being cruel, wasn’t she? Forgiveness was not something that was going to come easy to her in this. Besides, didn’t they all say she inherited her sharp tongue from him?

“I suppose not, princess.”

“Indeed.“

Rohanne turned around again. He was so formal with her now and it made her heart ache.

“Let’s just call it a gift then.”

“Fine.” She said sharply. “Then I’ll accept this gift when you remember that my name is not ‘princess’. Does that sound acceptable to you, uncle?”

She gave him an overtly false smile and walked away as fast as she could.

Rohanne heard no reply.

* * *

 

By the time she arrived back into her mother’s clutches, she was terribly ashamed and promised herself that she wouldn’t act so childishly again.

“Are you alright, my darling?” Her mother asked.

Rohanne looked up from her books and nodded.

“Yes, mother. I’m fine.”

Cersei gave her a sceptical look and raised an eyebrow. Rohanne sighed and slotted the three books into an empty space in the chest.

It was almost full of her belongings, only the last few things to go. There was a larger chest already completely full of her clothes and shoes packed onto one of the wagons down in the stable. This one was slightly smaller and fitted everything else which she needed. A few nightgowns that couldn’t fit into the other; some books; her needlework; a box of jewellery and a few things she needed for Rain.

She had also managed to smuggle her hunting dress and her bow past her mother, but had given it to Joffrey to avoid being caught. He was bringing no books with him, so he had the space.

“I promise, I’m fine.”

Cersei looked at her for a moment longer before she nodded. Rohanne relaxed as her mother’s scrutiny left her.

“Have you packed your winter cloak? It’s going to be terribly cold in the north.” Cersei said, her voice turning sour as she recalled their destination.

Rohanne nodded. “Of course. It’s in the other chest. Dalla was certain to pack everything I will need.”

Cersei hummed from her seat at Rohanne’s table.

“She is good, your maid?”

“Yes. She does everything she is told and most things before I have to say anything.” Rohanne replied, deciding to leave the packing for a bit longer and joining her mother at the table.

“A good quality in a servant. I doubt that Kevan’s wife would have sent us a girl who couldn’t do her job, but these people can be strange.” Cersei said, taking a sip from the goblet in her hand.

Rohanne thought it rather amusing that her mother and Meliana detested each other. They should bond over the wine they both love so very much.

“Well, you needn’t concern yourself with her. She’ll make herself scarce on the journey.”

Cersei looked at her with slanted eyes and then sighed loudly.

“I see no one told you.”

Rohanne frowned. “Told me what?”

“Your father has forbidden most of the servants. According to the steward, there are too many attending already for the supplies we would require.”

Cersei waved a dismissive hand and snorted gracefully.

“Ridiculous, of course sweetling, but we must do as our king commands.” She said with scorn.

“But how does he expect me to dress? These blasted gowns _require_ someone to assist, it isn’t as if I choose not to manage them myself.” Rohanne said, incredulous as she poured herself a glass of lemon water.

Cersei shrugged in a ladylike manner.

“I expect your little friend will have to help you, or I suppose I can spare Bethany occasionally.”

Rohanne sighed in frustration but nodded.

“Thank you, mother, I would appreciate it.”

She glanced at Cersei and decided to chance something.

“Admittedly, I am not eager to go, mother. I am sorry if I am being rude.”

Her gamble paid off as Cersei’s mouth curled up in a sneer.

“You have nothing to apologise for, little cub. This entire thing is a farce; if I had my way we would not be going. There is nothing in the north for any of us.”

Rohanne nodded in agreement. “I pray the visit is short.”

“As do I. Now, let me see this little creature you have burdened yourself with.”

Rohanne smiled despite her mother’s harsh words and went to the small pile of blankets where Rain was sleeping. Although she was a pup, Rain loved to sleep all the time – yet when she was awake she was abuzz with energy.

She picked her up gently and held her close to her chest as she walked back over to Cersei.

“This is Rain, mother.”

“Rain?” Cersei smirked as she took the sleepy pup into her arms, running a finger over Rain’s downy head and rubbing one floppy ear.

Rohanne laughed. “I know, I know. Joff named her. He chose Flame first, but I thought it didn’t suit her. She’s too placid.”

Cersei looked up. “Joffrey named her?”

Rohanne nodded, looking at her little pup. “I asked him to, and he did. I thought perhaps it might make him like her. It seems to have worked, at least a little bit.”

It took Rohanne a moment to notice the peculiar look Cersei was giving her.

“Mother?”

Cersei took a moment to reply, placing Rain on the floor.

“It is nothing, my love. I am pleased you are getting along better with your brother, however.”

Rohanne smiled briefly and shook her head.

“I do try, mother. It’s just… Joff can be difficult.”

She expected her mother’s suspicious look and tried not to take offence.

“Joff and I, we’re… I try not to fight with him and I… I mean he is my brother, I love him dearly of course, but…” Rohanne struggled to articulate her thoughts.

“… Just promise me you’ll keep trying, my love.” Her mother’s voice was mildly condescending.

Rohanne immediately pushed away the dismay that welled in her heart. She loved him greatly and tried so very much but keeping her brother happy all the time was nearly impossible.

Being the meek, agreeable sister was hard; sometimes as Joffrey’s mood changed, he would become even worse if she didn’t give him a challenge. It was like walking a tightrope in a strong wind without knowing when it would change direction and sweep you off to your death.

“I promise.”

Cersei seemed to relax and Rohanne followed suit, happy to change the subject if her mother was.

She took another sip of her water.

“Have you given any further thought to what we discussed?” Cersei asked.

Rohanne deflated. “Not exactly.”

Cersei glared at her. “Rohanne.”

“Mother, you were nineteen when you married father! I am only fifteen, surely I do not need to marry yet?” Rohanne said, keeping the whine out of her voice.

Cersei was not a forgiving woman.

“It is true, you shan’t marry any time soon, nor do I wish it. But you need to consider these things before you are trapped into a marriage you do not want, like I was. Surely you would prefer to have some say in who your future husband will be?”

“I would prefer not to have a future husband.” Rohanne muttered.

“I did not raise you to be a fool!” Cersei snapped.

Rohanne flinched and looked down as Rain began to play with the lace along her hem.

“Do you think you are the only woman in this world who did not wish for marriage?”

“No.” Rohanne mumbled.

“If you were lowborn you could become a septa, but you are not. You are a princess and when the time comes you will marry. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mother.”

Rohanne felt her mother looking at her and glanced up when she reached over and took her hand.

“I will do my best to have you marry into the Westerlands because I want you to be happy, my darling. I know your grandfather would ensure your wellbeing if you married one of his bannerman.”

“Are there even any men my age there for me to marry?”

Cersei frowned. “Not exactly – none eligible for a princess, of course – but you wouldn’t mind a husband a little older, surely?”

Dread pulled at her stomach.

“How much older, mother?”

“Only around five and thirty namedays; still in the prime of life.”

Rohanne’s mouth dropped open. “Mother, that’s near the same age as you! I couldn’t possibly marry someone that old.”

“Girls younger than you have married men much older, Rohanne! This way is the best way to keep you safe, with those loyal to our family!”

“Please, mother. Please don’t make me marry someone so old!” Rohanne pleaded. “I know there are other eligible lords, of an age closer to my own. I do not wish to marry a man who could be my father.”

Rohanne stood up under Cersei’s sudden scrutiny.

“You have considered it, then.”

Rohanne hadn’t; she simply paid attention during her lessons about the noble houses they ruled over. But she nodded, because it seemed that knowledge would help her now.

“List them for me.” She challenged.

Rohanne was taken aback. She stuttered for a moment.

“Talk properly!” Cersei said sharply. “Name these lordlings you think are worthy.”

Rohanne knew it was a terrible idea. She would list them and then Cersei would get ideas – but the alternative was disobeying her and that was not an option.

She never liked to go against her mother and the woman had long since honed the motherly skill of making you regret ever trying.

“I suppose there are the great houses. They have some sons my age, I think.”

“And they are?” Cersei persisted.

“Uh… House Martell… the eldest son is seventeen. Quentyn?”

“He’s _Dornish_.” Cersei spat. “Next.”

“Ser Humphrey Hightower? They could be considered a great house.”

“A fourth son. Next.”

“One of the Redwyne twins? House Redwyne is powerful.”

“Ah yes, the infamous Horror and Slobber. I think not. Next.”

Rohanne’s mind raced. “Willas or Ser Loras Tyrell?”

“A cripple and a pillow-biter. You’ve mentioned three houses there – do you have your heart set on the Reach?”

Rohanne blushed. “No, mother.”

“Good. Are there any others?”

“There’s the House Greyjoy… or not.”

Rohanne cowered under the withering look Cersei gave her.

“No daughter of mine is marrying a pirate, Rohanne. Have some sense.”

“Yes, of course… House Tully? Ser Edmure Tully is four and twenty, I think.”

“Is he not rumoured to be impotent?” Cersei asked.

“I think that’s just a song, mother.” Rohanne said wryly.

“Still. Hardly suitable.”

Rohanne shook her head and sighed. “The only other one I can think of is House Stark-“

She gasped in shock as Cersei grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly, a fierce look of reprimand on her face.

“You must listen to me, Rohanne. You are never, ever to mention marriage and House Stark in the same sentence again, do you understand me?”

Rohanne winced as pain shot through her hand and tried to pull it free.

“Mother, you’re hurting me.”

“Do you understand?” Cersei almost shouted. “Your father has a ridiculous fondness for them and would love nothing more than to join his house to theirs; you would be wedded, bedded and left to freeze amongst the wolves before you could protest. Is that what you want!?”

“No mother! I promise I won’t say a thing.”

Cersei stared into her eyes as if searching for her sincerity. When she seemed satisfied, she let go of Rohanne’s hand. She fixed her bandage and winced – Cersei had dug into her cuts.

“It is only because I care, little cub. There is nothing I would hate more than to see you left to rot up there in the frozen north where you don’t belong. You deserve all the warmth, wealth and happiness in the world – not to be the latest sacrifice on Robert’s altar to Lyanna Stark.” Cersei said bitterly, taking hold of Rohanne hand again and rubbing it gently.

“I love you dearly, Rohanne. You are my oldest daughter and if your brother was not to be king, I would have you be queen because you deserve nothing less. I would do anything for you, do you understand?”

Rohanne felt tears pool in her eyes but she brushed them away quickly.

“I love you too, mother. Ever so much.”

She stood up and walked around to her mother, kneeling in front of her and resting her head on her lap. Cersei’s long, thin fingers ran through Rohanne’s dark hair, stroking her head calmly. Rohanne was much too old for this, but she savoured the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and the soft feeling of her skirts against her cheek.

Each sensation brought an overwhelming sense of comfort and she relished in how lucky she was to have a mother that loved her so. Many girls weren’t so fortunate.

She sat up onto her knees again and took her mother’s hands in her own.

“I will do as you say, mother, I swear it. I don’t want to leave my family.”

Cersei gave her a beautiful smile and brushed away some loose hair from Rohanne’s temple before cupping her cheek.

“I know you don’t, sweetling.”

Cersei leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Rohanne’s forehead as if bestowing a blessing. She then patted her on the shoulder and bid her to stand.

“Off your knees now, darling, it’s not befitting of a princess.”

Rohanne smiled bashfully. “Of course.”

She stood up and Cersei did as well. It was still bizarre how Rohanne had to look down at her now when they both stood. Cersei was considered quite tall for a woman, but Rohanne was even taller with no sign of stopping. Growing half a hand taller than her mother in the past year alone; she was keeping up with Joffrey, at least.

“Now then, go finish your packing before supper. We have a very early morning tomorrow, after all.”

“I think I am finished. Perhaps another book.”

Cersei shook her head in amusement. “It stills puzzles me from where you inherited your fondness for reading. Neither your uncle Jaime nor I have any particular love for the written word. Neither does your father, for that matter.”

Rohanne shrugged. “Not nearly as much as uncle Tyrion, but I do enjoy it.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Shall we go to dinner, sweetling? Only your siblings will be joining us, so there is no need to change.”

Rohanne smiled and nodded. “Very well, mother. I’ll send Dalla up to watch Rain.”

She straightened her skirts before linking arms with her mother and leaving the room.

* * *

 

Rohanne awoke to the sound of her terrace shutters being thrown open.

“Good morning, princess! Today is the day!”

She groaned and rolled over, cuddling into the small bundle that had been curled up against her back. The past three nights she had tried to have Rain sleep on the small pile of blankets at the side of the bed but each morning she woke up with the little puppy having joined her in bed sometime during the night. It was a terrible habit to allow but she hadn’t the heart to stop it.

Another terrace shutter was thrown open and a cool breeze drifted into the room, causing Rohanne to shore up her quilts to try and fight off the cold. She peeked one eye open and saw that despite being woken there was almost no light coming in from the terrace.

“It is entirely too early for you to be so cheerful, Dalla.” Rohanne said hoarsely.

Dalla laughed and chirped back. “Forgive me princess, but today is a good day for me. I received news from home last night. My mother has given birth to a son, I have a little brother!”

Dalla’s mother, despite her youthful indiscretions that led to Dalla’s birth, had married a rather wealthy miller when Dalla was eight. The man hadn’t accepted Dalla as his own, but he had made her perfectly welcome in his home and kept her updated with news of the family when she came to the capital. Dalla’s mother had been desperate to give her husband a child and this pregnancy had been long awaited.

Rohanne pushed herself up in her bed with some effort and gave her maid a sincere smile.

“That’s wonderful news! Since you aren’t coming north with me, you should return home.”

Dalla turned away from the last shutter she was opening with a look of utter astonishment.

“I assumed I would be assigned new duties in your absence, princess?”

Rohanne inclined her head. “I think you likely would have been, but I see no reason why you cannot visit home while I am away. There will be less to do when my family is gone; you likely won’t be missed.”

She slipped out of bed and walked through to her solar, Rain moving to the warm space where her body had been lying. She sat on the chair in her nightgown and wrote a small note on a piece of parchment, signing her name and titles with a flourish at the end.

Rohanne folded the parchment neatly and went to Dalla, who was waiting patiently at the door.

“How long does it normally take you to travel home?”

“Well, I’ve never actually gone home yet, princess. But it took three days to Lannisport from Cornfield and then almost a fortnight to King’s Landing. Mother lives with my stepfather near Tarbeck Hall now, though, so it’ll be a bit shorter than that.” Dalla said, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves.

“Give this to the housekeeper.” Rohanne handed the parchment to Dalla, who took it curiously.

“It gives you leave for two moons, beginning at the start of next week. That should give you at least a moon with your family before you must return to the Red Keep. You’ll still receive your weekly wage as long as you return on time.”

“Oh, thank you princess! Thank you so much, I didn’t dare hope for anything.”

Dalla twitched forward but aborted the gesture. Rohanne instead touched her maid’s hand for a moment.

“You’ve been a very good maid to me and you’ve carried out your duties without a single problem, even when you first arrived. You haven’t seen your mother in at least two years – I would be desperate if I hadn’t seen my own mother in such a long time. Go home, spend some time with her and meet your brother. Pass your family my regards.” Rohanne said softly.

Dalla curtsied and nodded as she regained her composure.

“I’m very grateful, princess. I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Good.”

Dalla gestured to the table.

“There is a tray of breakfast there for you, princess. Your mother will meet you in the stables so you can join her in the wheelhouse.”

Rohanne grimaced as she sat down and picked up her fork.

“However… I took the liberty of having your horse saddled and one of your riding dresses held back from the wagon.”

Dalla looked at her tentatively but smiled when Rohanne beamed at her.

“And that is why you deserve leave, Dalla. My mother will have me to herself for plenty of time during the journey; I want to see the city as I leave.”

Rohanne quickly finished her small breakfast as Dalla looked out everything else she would need. She glanced over as she took her last mouthful to see Rain eating from her own little bowl in the corner, tail wagging happily.

Dalla noticed her looking. “The Princess Myrcella has offered to take the pup in the wheelhouse whenever you feel like riding, princess.”

Rohanne smiled. “I have a kind little sister, Dalla.”

“Indeed, princess, but I sense her motives were more selfish in nature.”

Rohanne looked at her in askance.

“The princess is very fond of animals.”

Rohanne inclined her head. “That she is.”

She stood up and went to her dressing curtain, pulling off her nightgown as she went. Dalla laced up her corset loosely for riding and Rohanne slid into the riding gown.

It was one of her finer ones, a deep forest green with golden embroidery. The sleeves weren’t as large and billowing as her other dresses and the skirts were thick and heavy to preserve her modesty as she rode.

The collar was wide, and after Dalla laced up the dress she tied Rohanne’s favourite necklace around her neck – a simple golden chain with a ruby pendant, a gift from her mother when she was very young. It had been broken and repaired numerous times as she grew, but she could never bare to part with it. It didn’t complement the dress either, but that mattered little.

Lastly, she stepped into her riding boots and laced those up. Dalla quickly weaved her hair into a tight, long plait before Rohanne spun as gracefully as she could in front of her mirror. She looked rather good, she thought.

“Do I look presentable, Dalla?”

“As always, princess.”

“I’m not sure why I ask you, you always flatter me.” Rohanne teased.

“Well, it is my job.” Dalla teased back.

Rohanne looked at her in astonishment before bursting into laughter. Once she quietened, she gave her maid a kind smile.

“Enjoy your time with your family, Dalla. I’ll see you again soon enough.”

Rohanne bent down and picked up Rain in one arm, her fine riding cloak over the other.

“Indeed. I wish you a safe and pleasant journey, princess.” Dalla replied as she curtsied.

Rohanne glanced one last time around her bedchamber before leaving the room.

* * *

 

She ran down the flights of stairs quickly, the soles of her boots quiet on the stone steps. The sounds of activity grew louder the lower she got, until she almost barrelled over someone on the next turn.

“My apologies, princess!” A servant shouted as he dodged out of her way carrying a box of some unknown contents.

She waved him off and walked down the last few steps, arriving into one of the main corridors. There were at least ten servants in sight, all busy with some duty or another – remarkably full compared to a normal morning.

They all greeted her briskly as she strode past, each focused on their individual tasks. It didn’t take long at all until she could see Meliana lurking in an alcove near the corridor to the stables.

“Mel!” Rohanne shouted in greeting, seeing Meliana’s head pop up.

The short blonde girl stepped out from her hiding spot to meet her friend, a grin on her face.

“Morning, Ro! Isn’t this exciting! The furthest north I’ve ever been is here – and now I’m going to the actual North!” Meliana greeted her, bouncing on her toes.

In contrast to Rohanne, Meliana wasn’t wearing anything remotely resembling a riding gown.

“I assume you aren’t riding with me then?” Rohanne said, smirking.

Meliana’s face turned blanched and she held back a shudder.

“Do not even joke of such things. I’m riding in the wheelhouse and there is nothing you can do to tempt me otherwise.” Her tone was deathly serious.

“Not even the fact you’ll have to share said wheelhouse with my mother?”

“Not even that, may the Seven have mercy on me.”

Rohanne elbowed her friend and laughed, readjusting Rain in her arms when she started to wriggle.

“If you’re so afraid of horses, Errol, how can you stand to look in the mirror?”

A mean voice came from behind them and Meliana spun on the spot, an equally mean sneer already in place.

“You would know all about horses, Florian, seeing as your father married one.” She hissed, crossing her arms tightly.

Erryk Broom stood a few paces behind them, a cloak slung over his shoulder as he stood leaning against the wall. He had cropped straw-blond hair, nothing like the Lannister colouring and narrow grey eyes. He was stocky and shorter than Rohanne; other than that, he was quite average.

“Now now, Errol, that was almost sad. Running out of what little wit you have, are we?”

“And yet it’s still more than you’ll ever have, Florian. Shouldn’t you and Jonquil be stealing one last passionate moment alone before we leave? I’d hate to catch you two going at it behind a haystack on the road.”

Garrett’s tall frame suddenly appeared behind Erryk as Rohanne rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Erryk. Just leave it.” He said, a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Listen to your lover. I’d hate to stop you from sharing one last kiss.” Meliana said as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“And what would you know about kissing, Lady Meliana?” Garrett demanded, glaring intently at her.

He was much taller than his friend, around the height of herself and Joffrey. Dark where Erryk was light, his eyes were a deep brown, almost matching his black pupil in that strange, unsettling way. Other than that, he was a perfectly ordinary young man.

Really, the most extraordinary thing about Garrett and Erryk was the bitter, ongoing war between them and Meliana.

Rohanne had to suppress her smirk as her friend’s mouth open and shut for a moment, her eyes wide.

“That’s what I thought. Come on, Erryk. Morning, princess.”

Rohanne nodded. “Morning, Jonquil.”

Garrett rolled his eyes as he marched Erryk past and she couldn’t help but snort.

Meliana waited until the boys were out of sight before rounding on her.

“Thank you so much for the reinforcement, Ro. It isn’t like I needed it.” She said scathingly before sighing.

They both started to walk towards the stables again, following in the boys’ footsteps.

“I thought you were doing fine.” Rohanne teased. “I also thought his fancy for you was supremely obvious this morning.”

Meliana grunted in disgust. “You truly are delusional.”

“ _’What would you know about kissing, Lady Meliana?’_ ” Rohanne affected a deep, masculine voice but broke into giggles when Meliana hit her shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I agree. I don’t know what you said, but do shut up, Ro.”

A hand smacked into the cleft between her shoulder and she grunted.

“Good morning to you too, Joff.”

“Good morning, my prince.” Meliana said flatly. She preferred not to speak to him at all, a sentiment that was returned.

Joff huffed in acknowledgement before throwing an arm around Rohanne’s shoulders and pulling her roughly into his side, tugging hard on her braid as he did so.

“Careful, Joff!” She wrestled his arm a bit until her plait was free before accepting that she couldn’t move any further.

He leaned down on her heavily and she huffed in exertion. Soon enough he settled into pace with them, his sword clicking against his waist with each step.

“Well, are you ready to see more of the world?” He asked sarcastically.

“Well, I suppose it will be quite exciting. I’ve never seen snow before, we might when we’re there.”

He sneered in response.

“You wish to join the Starks in the mud, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Joffrey was clearly in a wonderful mood this morning.

“Rohanne, do you want me to take Rain to the wheelhouse?” Meliana asked from her other side.

“Oh, please Mel. Can you give her to Myrcella? She said she’d look after her for me.”

Meliana nodded and escaped quietly with the puppy. Rohanne didn’t begrudge her.

“Where are Florian and Jonquil?” Joffrey asked, the corner of his lips twitching as they always did at the nicknames.

“They’re already in the stables. They have also gotten their daily taunting of Mel out of the way, so all is well once more.”

Joffrey twisted his lips in snide amusement before he noticed what she was wearing.

“You’re riding?”

She nodded. “Yes, I don’t exactly wish to be stuck in the wheelhouse with mother for the entire journey.”

Rohanne looked around for eavesdroppers as they entered the stables proper.

“Did you manage to hide my hunting things?” She whispered.

He rolled his eyes. “I just put them in my chest. Mother didn’t even look.”

“Oh.” She said. It was rather anticlimactic. “Well then. At least it’s done, I suppose.”

“Rohanne, Joffrey!” Cersei called them over as she stood with Tommen by the wheelhouse.

The royal stable was bustling with guards, a group of them leaving through the gate to clear the way while others mounted their horses. She could see the wagon with all of their belongings on it, as well as two wagons full of supplies which would follow behind them – the rest of the supply train was already underway.

Rohanne and her brother stopped in front of their mother, and he finally released her from his weight. She could see her mother’s disapproving glance as she took in Rohanne’s outfit.

“I thought you were coming in the wheelhouse with us, Rohanne? You are a princess, not a soldier.” Cersei scolded.

“Perhaps I could ride with Joff and uncle Jaime, mother. Only for a little while, until we leave the city.” She said as she swung her riding cloak around her and tied it tightly.

In truth, she had no intention of going into the wheelhouse at all that day, but it was probably best not to mention that at the current time.

Cersei frowned in disapproval and shook her head.

“No, Rohanne. It’s not appropriate-“

“By the Others, Cersei, let the girl ride.” Robert said suddenly from behind her.

Rohanne managed to stop herself from jumping in alarm and turned with a shy smile to her father. He nodded with his head towards the other side of the stable.

“We’re just about to leave – on you go, lass. You too, boy. Your horses are yonder. We’ve been held up long enough.” He said gruffly before marching off towards his own destrier.

Rohanne turned around again to her mother but all she saw were her skirts vanishing into the wheelhouse and the door closing. She held back a sigh.

Joffrey grabbed her arm and pulled her towards their horses. The two coursers stood side by side, their reins held by a stable hand. Rohanne went to the horse on the right, running her hand along the mare’s nose and patting her.

“Hello, Cass. Are you ready?” She whispered, before taking the reins herself and mounting her with a firm push up from the small step.

Joffrey mounted his stallion at the same time and was off before she could blink, following their father as he left the stable just after the wheelhouse. Rohanne quickly sorted her skirts neatly around her before digging her heels into her mare’s side gently. Cass took off, trotting calmly out and slipping past the wheelhouse before she was stuck behind it through the city’s narrow streets.

She caught up with Joffrey quickly, the excitement of the day coming over her as she smiled widely at him. He smirked back before he was joined by Garrett and Erryk who quickly took all of his attention.

Rohanne let herself fall back a few paces as the procession narrowed to pass through the gates of the Red Keep. Glancing to her right, she found herself riding beside her uncle Jaime.

She looked away abruptly, remembering everything that happened yesterday.

“Uncle?” She said, turning to him decisively.

There was a strange smile on his face. “Yes, Rohanne?”

Her heart suddenly lightened and the words no longer stuck in her throat.

“I apologise for how I behaved yesterday. It was horrid and I was childish.”

Her eyebrow cocked when he smirked and looked away for a moment.

“You reminded me terribly of your mother, actually. Your vicious tongue was rather frightening.” He said slowly.

Rohanne rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “Oh, stop.”

“I’m glad you left when you did; I was concerned you may have bitten off my head and I am rather fond of it. It’s quite a good one.”

“You are ridiculous.” She said haughtily.

It was both odd and entirely expected how easily everything fell back into place, like there had never been a disturbance to begin with. But forgiveness would take longer to come.

“Brace yourself.”

She looked over to him in confusion before they were suddenly out in the streets, surrounded by the smallfolk.

It was astounding how many lined the streets as they rode through it, waving and cheering as the royal family departed on their journey.

Shouldn’t they all still be asleep? Sound of the crowds rose, causing even the noise of horses’ hooves to muffle.

Rohanne looked over at her uncle again to see him waving carelessly at them, a blank smile on his face. She glanced back at the masses before tentatively following his example. She could hear a few shouts of ‘princess!’ over the din and she made a polite smile form on her lips as she waved as well.

It seemed to make the whole thing easier to tolerate and before she knew it they were riding past the base of Visenya’s Hill, the tall white Sept of Baelor standing proudly atop it. Rohanne wasn’t very pious but even she could appreciate the sheer magnificence of the building built to honour the Seven.

They soon passed by, and before she knew it they were passing under the Gate of the Gods – out onto the Kingsroad heading north.

Without slowing, she turned around and took one last, long look at city and the Red Keep in the distance. A true sight to behold; she spent a few more moments committing it to memory before facing forward once more.

There was no need to be sentimental; she would only be away for a few moons.

She would return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the second chapter is finished! We got to meet some of the other people in Rohanne's life and see some of her interactions with them. The next chapter is much more exciting; there's even some action as well.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this update - I'll see you all next Wednesday with chapter three. As always, I love and cherish any feedback!
> 
> Next week: Northward Bound.


	7. 3: Northward Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun on the road, but then the peace is shattered.
> 
> Rohanne is forced to face the fact that despite everything, she is woefully unprepared for the real world.

Rohanne III

Rohanne straightened her back and crossed her ankles as she placed Rain decisively on her lap.

"I'm ready, Ronnel. How do I begin?"

The wagon rocked from side to side as it churned down the Kingsroad.

It had started raining heavily around six days into their journey and five days later it was still pouring. The Kingsroad had become wet and boggy, horses' hooves and wooden wheels alike becoming stuck.

Much to her father's ire, they were only just level with Harrenhal when they should have been half way along the Trident towards the Twins by now. They had also had to stop twice already to repair the axel on the wheelhouse, causing even more delays.

Cass was tied to the back of the wagon; her mare ambling along nicely behind them with no thought to the weather. The constant rain was maddening for Rohanne though, as there was no escape from it even in the wheelhouse.

She had sat in it for two days previously and had to contend with being in close proximity to her mother, Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen and Meliana. It had honestly been one of the most unpleasant experiences of her life, the six of them crammed together in one damp little box with poor light and a musty, prickly smell that clung to everything.

Her dress was mostly soaked out here, with her oiled cloak doing little to ward off the water after such long exposure – but it was better than being stuck in there. At least the air was fresh.

Fine drizzle clung to the wisps of her hair still loose from her plait and she could feel a drip running slowly down her face. She brushed it off with a wriggle of her nose.

Six hunting hounds occasionally barked from inside the covered wagon, but otherwise everything was silent but for the sounds of moving. It was rather early in the day and few people were active enough to engage in conversation; the poor weather had sapped everyone's spirits.

Ronnel glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he directed the ponies around a large hole in the road.

"Well, first of all, you need to teach her to respect you. Ain't no use having a hound that loves you if they don't respect you. The minute they think they're in charge, they'll have you acting the way they want and that's no use." He said slowly.

Rohanne nodded.

"The trick is to remind them that you're the leader. Hounds need to be leaders or followers – if you don't take control of them, they'll soon be thinking you're their follower and they'll be a right terror to train."

"How do I do that? Make her respect me?"

"I'm just getting to that part, princess. To start with, they should learn just three words. Their name, 'good' and 'no'."

He held up three fingers to emphasise his point.

"You should say this one's name whenever you talk to her, call on her, anything. She likely won't understand for a good while yet, but it's setting the foundation that's important. You say 'good' whenever she does something right – coming to you when you call, eating when you want her to, shitting when you… ah wait, forgive my mouth, princess."

Rohanne shook her head with a smile. "It's fine, Ronnel, please keep going."

He looked at her hesitantly for a moment, before powering on.

"Aye. Well, you understand. 'Good' for good behaviour. Don't bother with anything more complicated yet; you'll just confuse her. These hounds are clever beasts, don't get me wrong, but they've got a fierce independent streak and they're right daft as pups."

Rohanne stifled a giggle and nodded in understanding.

"Lastly, you say 'no' when she does something wrong. Chewing, biting… uh,  _relieving themselves_  at the wrong time or place, stuff like that. You say 'no', loud and clear. Don't be afraid of sounding mean, you ain't shouting at her. If you was a hound, you'd be growling at her to behave. It's the same thing."

Rohanne hummed.

"I think I understand." She said, running a hand over Rain's little back.

Ronnel hummed in satisfaction. "Aye. It's also good to reinforce it. Give her a good rub whenever she does something you're happy with. The same as when she does something wrong – it's best to give them a scare, distract them from what they were doing."

Rohanne frowned. "Scare them?"

"Aye. It might sound harsh, but it's the best way to discipline them. Grabbing them by the scruff of the neck and giving a good shake works, same as a loud noise like banging something or clapping your hands. You might also give ignoring her a try. Say 'no' and then don't touch or talk to her for a small while. Pups love to be centre of attention – when you stop letting them be, it works to let them know they've done wrong." He said, turning his eyes back to the road and avoiding another puddle of unknown depth.

They really couldn't afford to break another wheel.

"Ah, I see." Rohanne said as she looked down at Rain.

Rather appropriately, it seemed Rain was rather fond of the rain, as she had her tongue out catching droplets and her eyes shut.

"One more thing, princess. Never try hitting her as a punishment, even if you might see us do it differently with the hunting hounds. They're trained to not be bothered by loud noises and you wouldn't see anyone with sense putting a hand near the scruff of a hunting dog – so sometimes we need to give them a bit of pain to shock them. You won't have any need for that, since that little one is going to be a pet. Hitting her won't work any better than the other things I've mentioned, and in some hounds it makes them turn mean."

Rohanne's eyes widened. "Really?"

Ronnel nodded. "Aye. I'm just looking out for you, princess – the last thing you want is her to bite you. Once they get the taste of blood, there's nothing getting it out of them again."

"I know, thank you, Ronnel. I truly had no idea where to start; I feared she would end up terribly spoiled."

The kennelmaster smirked in amusement. "She still might. Three bits of advice. Don't reward her with food, don't let her eat from your plate and stick to a routine. Best way to train a pup."

Nodding again, Rohanne held Rain up to her face and brushed noses with her. The pup's tiny tongue came out and swiped across the tip of her nose, causing her to giggle at the sensation.

"When can I train her to do things? Like sitting down, things like that."

Ronnel began shaking his head before she even finished.

"A good few moons, at least. She won't have much sense until then, and you don't want to start her on the harder stuff before she can do the basics. Just focus on what I've told you, princess, and you'll be on the right track."

Rohanne pushed down her disappointment and nodded.

"Alright then. Thank you again Ronnel. I didn't think of all this before, but I'll manage."

He inclined his head. "Aye, I've faith you will. You can come ask me if you think of anything else. Now why don't you put the pup in the wagon while you nip off and have something to eat? There's a few spare cages set up and it'll do her some good to get used to other dogs."

"Oh, thank you. She won't be any trouble?"

Ronnel chuckled. "I'd be a poor kennelmaster indeed if I couldn't handle one small pup."

"Of course." Rohanne muttered, her cheek red.

She climbed up on the seat and shimmied round to the opening in the thick cloth. When she opened it, she was met with several stacks of large cages, each holding a large hound of varying size and colour. A few barked when they saw her but most were unbothered or asleep. The smell of dog was quite strong but it didn't bother her as she crawled to the back where there were two empty cages, Rain tucked under one arm.

Rohanne placed Rain into the cage and shut the door quickly, sliding the latch closed. Rain sniffed half-heartedly at straw lining the bottom of the cage before she began to whine.

"Oh, don't worry darling. I'll be back soon."

She scratched her between the ears through the bars of the cage before crawling backwards out of the opening and tying it shut behind her. She continued to shimmy around the edge of the wagon until she was on the back, face to face with Cass who whinnied upon seeing her rider.

"Hello, Cass. Would you like to ride with me again?"

Rohanne quickly untied Cass's reins and leapt off the wagon, moving quickly to the side of the road out of the way of the column of soldiers that followed. They called out polite greetings as she led Cass to the nearest tree – she had no step to climb on. Bracing herself sideways against the trunk, she kicked off from it firmly with a grunt and threw a leg over into the saddle. She heaved herself a bit more and groaned in relief when she finally settled comfortably.

Far from the most graceful of mountings; she was very thankful for the heavy skirts that helped keep her modesty.

She set Cass off at a trot, passing Ronnel's wagon with a wave and making her way up the train. Several groups of smallfolk were travelling off the side of the road to make way for the royal party, but otherwise it was a peaceful day.

Rain continued to fall, albeit lighter, but now there was a fine layer of mist covering the fields at either side of them. It was quite scenic, although eerie and made Rohanne feel like she was in a small space.

Mud slopped under Cass's hooves, but her courser managed to catch up to the wheelhouse in good time.

"Hello uncle Jaime, Ser Boros." She called out as she passed.

Each Kingsguard knight kept a steady pace as they rode alongside it.

"Good morning, princess."

"Hello indeed. What can we do for you?" Her uncle Jaime said with a smirk.

"Where is everyone?"

"We're in here, Ro!" A voice shouted before the screen in the wheelhouse was yanked out of the way and Tommen's cheerful face appeared.

Rohanne spotted her mother's exasperated face in the background and Myrcella hiding a smile as she looked down at her sewing. Meliana was in the opposite corner reading a book but looked up when she heard her friend.

Pretending not to notice the way her face blanched when she caught sight of Cass's head, Rohanne gave Meliana a smile as she turned to her brother.

"Hello Tommen. Have you had luncheon yet?"

Cersei frowned. "We'll be stopping for that, surely."

Jaime appeared at Rohanne's other side and spoke over her to his twin.

"I'm afraid not, sister. The king has declared we won't be stopping until we reach Darry, to make up the time we've lost."

Cersei's frown turned to an incredulous scowl.

"He cannot be serious. That's a day and a half, at least."

Jaime shrugged. "I expect we'll arrive sometime in the early morn, under darkness."

Cersei muttered something biting under her breath that Rohanne couldn't hear. She decided to chime in.

"I am about to get some food; would you care for me to bring something back for you all, mother?" Rohanne said, steadying Cass as she stepped over a deep pit in the road.

Cersei raised an eyebrow in reproach. "Don't be ridiculous, you aren't a servant."

Rohanne refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Mother, the servants are all busy. We cannot do things here as we normally would."

Cersei looked as if she strongly disagreed, but Jaime caught her eye and she said nothing.

"Very well." She said grudgingly.

"Could I take Tommen with me? I'm sure he would like to get out of the wheelhouse for a little while." Rohanne said, glancing at her brother.

Tommen's face brightened and he turned to Cersei.

"May I, mother? Please!"

Cersei's face had been reluctant, but upon seeing Tommen's good mood she softened. She reached over to where Tommen was sitting and pulled his cloak out from under him, wrapping it tightly around his shoulders.

"On you go, then. Be sure to keep this around you and stay warm."

Tommen smiled happily and leaned up to press a clumsy kiss to his mother's cheek. Cersei looked surprised but cupped his face gently in thanks. She looked up to Rohanne as she opened the door to the still moving wheelhouse.

"Be careful, the both of you. And be sensible, please Rohanne – keep your brother  _safe_." She berated.

Tommen heard his mother's words and immediately disregarded them as he launched himself off the step and over Rohanne's horse in a rare display of courage. Only the height of the wheelhouse and Rohanne's closeness allowed him to do this successfully, and she scrambled to pull him up in front of her.

"Tommen!" Cersei snapped, her hand out in front of her in an aborted attempt to stop him.

"Please don't worry, mother. I'll look after him." Rohanne said as she wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to her.

Tommen was only eight so he could ride comfortably in front of her, his pale blond head under her chin. She wrapped her massive cloak around him as well to give him some extra protection.

She turned to Meliana who was watching the whole thing with an amused smirk.

"Want an orange, Mel?" Rohanne asked. Dornish oranges were Meliana's favourite and she knew there were some packed in the supplies. They should be ripe by now.

Meliana nodded and Myrcella piped up.

"May I have one too, Rohanne?"

"Of course, little sister. Would you like one, mother?"

"No, thank you my love."

Rohanne nodded and tapped Tommen's thigh.

"Ready, little brother?" She asked, laughing when he nodded eagerly.

"Then, off we go."

She moved Cass's reins and the horse followed obediently, moving out to the side of the road. Glancing up the road, she could see her father's massive frame beside Ser Meryn. Uncle Tyrion rode behind him and she could see the Hound even further in the distance, likely following her brother and his minions.

Rohanne turned Cass around and took off riding down the column, Tommen bouncing happily in front of her. He was focused on the wagons and riders they passed, taking in every person and detail with a delighted expression. Many fond looks reached them as they rode and the greetings of soldiers and servants, as well as a few minor lords who decided to come with them. Tommen replied eagerly to each one with a proud wave and most humoured him with a polite bow of the head.

She acknowledged Ronnel as they passed him and slowed just past him, where another wagon full of supplies moved along slowly. There were two servants riding in it, handing out small bundles to passing soldiers since there was no time for anyone to stop and cook their own meals.

Rohanne listed off everything she needed and Tommen took it all into his arms.

Thanking the servant, she took off riding back towards the wheelhouse after making sure Tommen had a firm grip on his burden.

Rohanne slowed to a steady walk as she tapped lightly on the side of the wheelhouse. The screen was pulled out of the way and the shutter opened to Myrcella's face. She smiled and reached out as Tommen stretched to hand her the bundle of food.

"Rohanne, Tommen, come eat with us." Cersei commanded, reaching down for the skins of water at her feet, since proper flagons and cups were hardly practical as they were constantly rocked back and forth.

Suddenly, a loud roar erupted from in front of them and three lone horsemen shot out from the left of the party. They rode wildly through the trees and down the small grassy embankment into the open fields, hollering laughter echoing through the mist. Another, larger rider followed them from a distance.

With narrowed eyes, Rohanne recognised Joffrey's golden head – which made the other two riders Florian and Jonquil. She smirked in amusement as one of the horses veered into the other and a faint shout of outrage reached her Glancing down at Tommen, she was surprised by the wistfulness in his eyes as he stared after them.

"I'm afraid Tommen and I aren't quite hungry yet, mother." She said with a wink to Tommen as he looked up in confusion.

"Rohanne." Cersei said, with the fierce glower and stern voice of a mother.

Rohanne gave her a mischievous grin and smirked at her uncle who was once again riding sedately alongside the wheelhouse.

"Hold on tight, little brother!" She whispered in his ear and dug her heels hard into Cass's side.

Cass took off immediately, gathering speed quickly as befitting a well-bred courser.

"Rohanne! Come back here this instant!" Cersei shouted after her.

Ignoring her mother's angry rebuke, she dug in her heels and took off, Tommen holding tightly to Cass's mane with wide eyes.

Rohanne rode up the length of the column, her long plait flying out behind her as she passed her uncle Tyrion and her father with a cheeky wave – her father's rare laughter booming as Cass finally made a gallop.

Turning Cass down into the field following the boys, her mare leapt easily over the roots of the trees and down the embankment. The ground was hard despite the rain and Cass's hooves flew over the ground as they thundered towards her brother.

The boys were only doing a canter so she passed her brother's guard, the Hound, with relative ease and was crossing the distance between them easily.

She leaned out left and smacked the shoulder of the nearest boy to her.

"I can't believe you're so slow Florian; Tommen and I have you beat without any effort at all!" She shouted, catching the attention of the other two.

Erryk looked at her in annoyance as she passed him quickly, followed by Joffrey and Garrett.

"And they call themselves able horsemen, Tommen, can you believe it?" She asked her passenger, smiling when he giggled shyly and held on tighter.

He seemed both enthralled and terrified by their speed, looking down as the ground disappeared behind them. Colour rose in her cheeks as the wind whipped by them and the rain began to pour harder, cold droplets feeling like sharp pieces of glass on her skin. She could hear the boys catching up behind her and tilted Cass's direction so that they could end up back at the road in a wide curve.

Joffrey caught up with her just as the rain became even heavier, visibility reducing until she could barely see the procession at all. He grabbed the back of her cloak and she slowed down to stop herself from being pulled off.

"I'm surprised you can even get to a gallop with that lump next to you!" Joffrey yelled with a sneer, looking down his nose at Tommen.

Rohanne felt Tommen shrink back into her and rolled her eyes as she ran her fingers comfortingly through his wet blond hair, darkened by the water.

"Don't be an arse, Joff! We've had fun, haven't we Tommen?" She asked him quietly.

She felt him nod against her and smiled – although he was beginning to shiver.

"Come on then. Let's go back and eat with mother before she becomes cross with us."

Rohanne took off once more, riding in the general direction of the road since it was near impossible to see. Joffrey didn't follow, likely to stay out here and cause more mischief. Squinting through the hail water, she finally began to see the trees lining the road.

Riding towards the flash of white Kingsguard cloak and the ire of her mother; she hoped her little jaunt had been worth it.

* * *

 

It had not been worth it.

Cersei had all but confined her to the wheelhouse for the next week, her only respite when they stopped for a day and a night at Darry.

It wasn't just her own recklessness that had infuriated her mother, but that she had involved Tommen. Endangering them both like a fool, her mother had called it, but Rohanne hadn't seen the problem.

She was a capable rider, everyone knew that, and she hadn't gone far. Her mare hadn't been pushed too hard either – Cass was able to reach a gallop much faster than she had been going.

Rohanne thought her mother was overreacting but she knew better than to say that to the woman's face. Instead, she put up with sitting by the window, staring out the high peaks of Mountains of the Moon as they drifted across the Trident and along the Kingsroad. Finishing two books and knitting part of a shawl in the time passed some of the time while she was trapped, in between playing with Rain and talking to Meliana.

Cersei had given the two of them countless poisonous looks whenever they had gotten loud but she managed to ignore them as Meliana's solution was simply to be louder.

Finally, one morning she managed to make her escape.

Stopping for the night in a large clearing, they slept in large tents on wooden pallets topped with fine, soft furs. The party was just past level with the Twins, the seat of House Frey. Weather had long since eased, leaving the days dry, if cloudy and slightly colder than she was used to.

Rohanne stirred quickly from sleep, her eyes flying open as her shoulder was shaken hard. Jumping in fright as she saw the tall silhouette standing over her in the darkness, she relaxed when the figure bent down to her and she recognised Joffrey's scowling face.

He held a finger up to his lips and gestured silently for her to follow him, holding up her bow when she gave him a questioning look.

She nodded in understanding and looked hesitantly over to where Myrcella and Tommen lay sleeping, the day still entirely too young for them to be awake. Cersei's maid Bethany also slept on a less opulent pallet at the end of the tent, here to watch over her queen's younger children.

Rohanne slipped out of bed and grabbed her hunting dress that had appeared at the foot of her bed. It was creased from being in Joffrey's chest but wearable – she looked again to Bethany. She was going to need her to lace her into her dress, but Rohanne knew that the instant she did she would go to wake her mother and tell on her. Cersei would be furious, stop her from going and probably exile her to the wheelhouse until they reached Winterfell.

Of course, she would probably still do that once she realised Rohanne was gone, but at least it would be worth it.

But that still left the problem of dressing.

With a reluctant heart, she turned to Joffrey.

"Joff!" She whispered near silently, enough to get his attention but not to wake the other sleepers.

"What?" He asked, a frustrated twist to his face.

"I need to be laced up." She said, gesturing to the back of her dress.

He was silent for a moment. "And?"

"And I can't do it myself!" She hissed.

"I'm not doing it!" He said disgustedly, making to leave the tent.

She grabbed the sleeve of his arm and yanked him back towards her.

"You have to! If I'm stuck in the bloody wheelhouse for another day, I swear to the Seven you are the one I'll make suffer!" Rohanne spat, ignoring the ferocious way her brother bared his teeth.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" He growled, slightly louder and pushed her roughly.

She stumbled back a few paces and looked over to the closest sleeper, Myrcella, as she shifted at the disturbance. After a moment, she settled back into sleep again and Rohanne let out a breath.

Turning back, she was met with Joffrey's glare.

"Come on Joff, be reasonable! You know how much I want to go hunting!" She pleaded, retrieving her boots and her corset, as well as a shift.

He looked away from her, the affront obvious on his face.

She sighed. "I'm sorry for what I said. But it's easy – you just need to tighten the laces like you would a riding boot. It'll be done in moments!"

Joffrey still looked outraged, but after a long moment he gave her a stiff nod.

Rohanne let out another breath in relief.

"Turn around for a moment."

The instant he turned around she whipped off her nightgown and yanked the shift on over her head. Lacing up the corset as loosely as she could and stepping into it to make it easier for him, she then tapped him on the shoulder and turned around.

"Alright, start from the bottom, tighten each one and then tie it in a knot at the top. Not too tightly though, I still need to breathe."

She heard him scoff but he began to follow her instructions, albeit clumsily. She hissed when he deliberately dug into her back with his nails, but soon enough he reached the top.

"Turn again."

She then pulled the thick green hunting dress over her head, pulling it down until it sat comfortably on her hips.

He repeated his previous actions and Rohanne stretched to the left and right to test it before nodding in satisfaction.

"That's it, thank y-"

He vanished from the tent immediately and she rolled her eyes. Gods, he could be such a child. It was hardly her fault that women were made to wear such ridiculous clothing.

She slipped on her boots and plaited her hair into a thick braid, pinning it up around her head in a bun. A quick look confirmed everyone else was still asleep and she ducked out of the tent. Immediately, a hand grabbed her wrist and dragged her away from the tents until she was pushed against a tree.

"Never, ever tell anyone I did that for you!" Joffrey hissed at her, a few droplets flying from his mouth in his rage.

Rohanne looked away bitterly.

"It isn't  _you_  people would talk about, Joff, but me! Perhaps I should be asking you to keep your mouth shut?" She asked, her hands on her hips.

" _I'm_  not going to say anything." He said defensively.

"Then it seems we're in agreement. Shall we?"

She gestured in the direction of where the horses were kept.

"You definitely won't tell anyone?" He asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Others take you, no! What are you so worried about anyway? It is I who would have a 'scandal' to deal with, despite the fact you are my  _brother_  and it is entirely preposterous."

Joffrey faltered and Rohanne crossed her arms.

"Don't worry Joff, the momentary contact with my dress didn't geld you – you're still a man." She mocked, tilting her head and smiling unkindly.

Rohanne grunted when his scowl reappeared and his fist connected with her chin.

"Cunt." He spat.

"Can we go now,  _before_ you wake someone up?"

He gave her one last mean look before shoving her bow into her hands and taking off with long strides. She rubbed the angle of her tender jaw with two fingers, grimacing as the pain flashed. It wasn't her cheekbone this time though, so there shouldn't be too obvious a bruise. That was something.

She slipped her arm through the bow and rested it on her shoulder as she followed him.

Their horses were saddled and her full quiver was looped over hers. Several men were waiting by their horses including the Hound and Ser Preston of the Kingsguard, as well as a few soldiers.

Rohanne slipped behind the last two men.

"Florian, Jonquil. It's awfully early, shouldn't you two still be cuddled up in bed together?" She asked innocently, closing her eyes as she smiled with her hands held behind her back.

Garrett rolled his eyes and sighed a greeting while Erryk gave her an ugly frown – but unlike with Meliana, he held his tongue. She was still his princess, and her brother might feel like defending her that morning, however unlikely an event that may be.

"Stop tormenting the lads, Rohanne." Robert said suddenly from behind her.

She spun on her heel and nodded.

"Good morning, father. You are coming on the hunt as well?"

"Aye." He looked at her knowingly. "Come on then, up on your horse. I want to see how good you are with that bow."

Rohanne bounced up the step and swung onto Cass as one of the men handed her the reins. She smirked at her father, one corner of her mouth turning up and her green eyes narrowing.

Hunting was one of her favourite things to do, and she was rather good at it.

"I'm very good with that bow."

Robert looked unsettled for a moment as he stared at her but grunted and turned away as he mounted his own stallion.

All those accompanying them mounted as well and soon they were all riding out deep into the forest.

A Baratheon knight by the name of Ser Denys attached himself to her side, ordered to attend her while they hunted. Being forced to have a chaperone was particularly annoying, but at least she there was only the one. Her mother would have insisted on at least four, but her father was able to be persuaded and she talked him down. She had no need for so many guards, it was absurd.

Besides, Ser Denys' company was no hardship. He was a pleasant man of perhaps six and twenty with a healthy sense of humour; she had been guarded by him before.

It was a crisp, clear morning and the sun was only just beginning to pierce through the trees. The hunting party soon split off into smaller groups and Rohanne ended up with her brother, the Hound and Ser Denys.

Her father soon disappeared with the rest of the men. One of the horses carried spears but there was little chance of getting any boar in the riverlands; deer were more likely, although not the large ones found in the stormlands. Rohanne herself was hoping to bag a small doe if she was fortunate enough, perhaps a few hares if not.

The sun was much higher in the sky by the time they caught sight of any tracks and Joffrey was already complaining of boredom.

"Perhaps you should go back then, brother?" She said with a grin on her face. "Leave all the fun to me?"

"Ha!" He replied with a creased brow. "You only want me to go back because otherwise you don't have a chance."

"Is that a challenge?" She asked.

He looked thoughtful as he gestured to the fork in the deer tracks they were following.

"It is. You follow this trail, and I'll follow the other. First one to kill something wins."

Rohanne cocked an eyebrow. "I accept. What will I get when I win?"

"You mean when I win. I want your Qartheen bow." He said with an arrogant smirk.

Rohanne's face dropped. "You can't be serious."

Archery was the only martial pursuit that was acceptable for women and Rohanne clung to it once she had been forced to stop her sword lessons, with the middling support of her family.

For her fifteen nameday, her uncle Tyrion had gifted her a double-curved bow of shaped elephant bone, embedded with small sapphires and opals around the handle with small animal carvings etched into the length of it.

It was the most ostentatious and valuable thing Rohanne had ever owned, even as a princess, and she was extraordinarily careful with it. Having only ever been used twice hunting in the crownlands, she didn't bring it with her for fear of losing it. The handling was infinitely better than the older one she took with her on this journey- yet the Qartheen weapon was more an oddity than practical.

"I am. When I win, I want it."

Rohanne swallowed carefully, but eventually nodded.

"Fine. Then I want that dagger I saw you filch from the baggage train."

Joffrey's smug smile vanished and he glared at her.

"You're a woman, what are you going to use it for?"

She ignored the derision in his voice. "Are you scared you're going to lose?"

"Fine. You aren't going to win anyway." Was his parting quip.

And with that, he rode off, the Hound following him dutifully. She stared after him for a moment, gathered herself and began moving as well. Ser Denys followed some ways behind her, only just within eyesight to avoid scaring off any prey.

They were very far from any kind of village, so the only real danger to her was perhaps a shadowcat from the mountains – and they did not make a habit of hunting people if there was ample prey.

Good light became scarce as the trees grew closer together and the dense canopy thickened as they went deeper into the forest. Despite this she soldiered on, determined to win this wager with her brother. Following the tracks became harder on horseback and she dismounted, taking her quiver and bow with her. Leaving Cass in Ser Denys' safe care, she crept onwards with haste.

Common sense was overruled by the resolve to win as she walked the path of her prey.

Her boots and the bottom of her skirt became filthy as the mud grew boggy, the prints clearly visible as she slowly nocked her bow. Hunting lessons with her uncle Renly came forth in her mind and she looked for broken branches and the way the hoofprints were pointing.

There was a glimpse of pale tan between the trees ahead and she froze. From her distant vantage point she thought it was a doe, until he turned his head and she could see the two solitary spikes from between his ears. A stag, a young one.

It was still far better than she had expected and she thanked the gods for the stroke of luck; it was  _extraordinary_  how quickly she managed to find it. She was going to win the wager with her brother – he would react poorly, as always, but sometimes she just wanted to  _win_  despite the consequences.

Creeping forward as slowly and silently as she could, she focused on trying to avoid making a blunder and causing him to take off. Making it to the nearest tree, she paused to take her breath and crept to the next one. All the while, her target bent to eat the grass, chewing slowly with no indication he knew she was there.

Soon enough she was as close to him as she dared.

There was a distinct lack of any other sound in the forest, but Rohanne only half noticed – even Ser Denys following behind seemed to have disappeared and the birds had long stopped singing.

She was so focused on the deer that she thought she could actually hear each time he chewed the grass.

Her chest shuddered as she took a deep breath as silently as she could, and lined up the bow. If she could make this shot, this would be one of the fastest hunts she had ever done and would be something she could legitimately boast about. She could already see her father and uncles' pride, her mother's fond exasperation, Joffrey's mad frustration when she beat him.

Her fingers twitched as she made to release the drawn arrow. The stag's ears suddenly twitched and his head spun in her general direction causing her heart to clench.

She released just as he bolted away, the arrow piercing hard into the bark of a tree.

Rohanne had only a moment to groan as something caught the corner of her eye.

Her only warning to move was the glint of silver as light danced across the blade coming towards her face.

As she dived away from the tree, the sword plunged into it and took out a large chunk of the wood. Landing on the ground, she quickly clambered to her feet with shocked eyes on the dark form of its wielder.

He was unremarkable, a man of perhaps her mother's age wearing brown leather armour and worn boots. The aggressive grin on his face twisted him into a monster.

"W-who are you!?" Rohanne stammered, backing away as fast as she could.

She stumbled over loose tree roots and rocks but managed to stay on her feet, her gaze locked to the man who just tried to  _kill_  her.

"Don't think that matters much, do you?" He said as he began to stalk towards her.

"Wait… wait! Don't you know who I am?" She asked, backing into another tree trunk but swerving around it quickly.

"You look highborn, and rich."

He sprinted forward and swung his sword again, this time in a horizontal arch right where her head would have been hadn't she ducked and rolled away herself.

Her uncle Jaime's training came back to her slowly, but she remembered the importance of dodging. Never block an attack you can avoid altogether was his very first lesson. She didn't have the option to block even if she had wanted to though, since she had no blade.

The roll almost finished her when her dress caught on a sharp rock and pulled her back – she yanked with all her might and the material ripped from mid-calf down.

"Please! You're right, I can give you money! I have plenty!" She pleaded when she was upright.

He seemed to consider it for a moment and she almost allowed herself to hope. Then he shook his head.

"Nah, I think I'll just take it off you once I'm done."

Rohanne looked at him desperately and then took off running as best as she could with her awkward dress.

"Ser Denys! Ser Denys, where are you!" She shouted, holding up her skirts with one hand.

In the other was her bow, held in an iron grip but she didn't think she would have the chance to use it anytime soon. She could hear the harsh breaths of her assailant and he was terrifying close behind her.

Suddenly she tripped over something soft and landed hard with a whoosh of breath as all the air was forced out of her lungs, the impact causing her braid to fall out of the bun on her head.

She forced herself to her knees and looked back, only to cry out in distress.

"Ser Denys!"

His body lay on his back with his throat dashed out, staring vacantly up at the trees. Blood stained his armour and seeped into the ground beneath him – there was another wound on his side in the gap between his chestplates.

Rohanne stared in horror, noticing the blood soaking into her skirts and covering her hands from the crimson grass.

She wiped her hands on her dress frantically but only managed to smear it into her skin.

"He wasn't much of a fight, I'll tell you that much. Gutted him like a pig."

Rohanne's attention was drawn back to the man as he stood over the body of her guard, as if contemplating his work. Gods, how was this even happening?

Grabbing her bow from where she dropped it, she pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back which had miraculously remained full during her desperate flight.

Her hands shook hard as she nocked the bow with difficulty, finally managing to get the arrow in place and pointing it at her enemy.

"S-Stay away from me." She said as firmly as she could, climbing to her feet as best as she was able.

He didn't seem at all threatened as he took in her stance, there was even a smirk on his face. He began to walk towards her with slow, even steps – instead of moving around the body he stood on poor Ser Denys' chest like a step.

She began reversing slowly again as he approached, her hands still shaking and tears beginning to blur her eyes.

"You're quite good with that bow, ain't you? Bet a tall lady like you's gone hunting loads of times before. Bet you've even gotten a few things, maybe a buck like that one back there."

He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb.

"But shooting some buck is different to shooting a man. When you shoot a buck, it's food. Even you highborns need to eat. You don't eat men. You shoot them and you have to watch their last breath wobble out from their mouths as their faces turn blue and their eyes pop from their sockets. You watch all the blood pour out like water and you know it's happening because of you. Maybe for a good reason, or maybe just because you felt like it. It don't matter. It takes something different to kill a man, and you know what?"

He glanced away and then back into her eyes with a wicked stare.

"You ain't going to do it."

He darted forwards and slapped the bow from her hand. Gasping as it fell, she shrieked when he smacked her across the face with his backhand – she'd never been hit so hard in her life.

The force of the blow threw her off-balance and her head bounced hard off the ground.

Time froze for a moment and the world swam.

" _Get up, there's more in you yet."_

"Uncle Jaime?" She murmured through the taste of blood and dirt on her tongue.

" _Didn't you hear me? Get up!"_

"- ain't going to get up?"

Rohanne rolled onto her back just as the man lifted his sword into the air and kicked out directly into the side of his left knee. Just as she had hoped he buckled and the grip on his sword loosened.

She took advantage of his momentary lack of focus and scrambled to her feet, running back in the vague direction she remembered leaving her brother. The throbbing in her head was fierce and she felt like she might throw up at any moment but she kept running.

"Joffrey! Clegane!" She yelled between heaving breaths.

All she could hear was the sound of her feet pounding the earth and the beating of her heart.

"Father!" She tried as well, praying beyond anything someone heard her.

Anything further was choked off as her pursuer's hand grabbed the long braid trailing behind her and wrenched her back. She took a deep breath and screamed as loudly as she could before a hand clamped around her throat.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growled in her ear as he pulled her back against him.

She saw his sword rise again and kicked backwards like a horse into the same knee she had gotten before. He swore and managed to dodge when she tried it again, jerking his hand on her neck and forcing the breath from her.

Although unable to breathe she fought as hard as she could, grabbing his sword arm from the corner of her eyes and twisting it as best as she was able.

As she had grown, Rohanne had surpassed many boys and girls, then men and women in height. In the life she had led prior to this moment, it had been nothing other than a trait she had gotten from her father. A curiosity that only affected which men were willing to marry her, since no husband wished to be shorter than his wife.

Suddenly Rohanne recognised it as a distinct advantage, and she used it.

She arched backwards and pushed with her legs, forcing her entire bodyweight onto her attacker. Normally this wouldn't have had an effect – he was clearly a man with some sword training which meant the first thing he learned would be how to place his feet in a stable stance.

But at that precise moment he was already off-balance from her twisting and throwing her body – all while he tried to hold her in one hand and his sword in another. With the added force of her push; he went down hard.

She landed solidly on top of him and elbowed backwards directly into his ribs, startling in surprise when she heard a popping noise. He grunted.

Had she just broken a rib?

His left fist sank into her side in retaliation and she cried out. She reached around and clawed his face as she rolled off him, willing herself towards the sword he had dropped just a fraction away from his hand.

She needed to get it. If she had the sword she wouldn't have to fight any more; he wouldn't be able to kill her.

Her own ribs throbbed from his punch as she scrabbled towards the sword. He heaved the back of her dress and she yelped as her fingers brushed the hilt.

She had to get the sword!

He pulled her back and got to his feet before his leg swung and he kicked her violently in the stomach. Rohanne's eyes watered as she gagged and threw up most of the loaf she'd eaten as breakfast. The pain in her abdomen was searing, shooting through her entire body with each breath she took until she could barely move.

"Fuck, you've a lot of fight for a highborn bitch. More trouble than you're bloody worth."

He kicked her again and spat on the ground in front of her. Bending down, he picked up the sword.

Through absolute sheer force of will against the agony coursing through her, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and shuffled back. She didn't want to die, gods, she didn't want to die.

This isn't how she thought it would be. She was supposed to have a sword and she was supposed to win. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She had never hurt this much in all her life.

Rohanne didn't see how she could win this time.

He had a tight grip on the hilt of the sword as he marched towards her with a savage glint in his eye. Her bow was lost along with Ser Denys and the arrows on her back were useless without the bow – she'd never get close enough to stab him with them. The horses were gone, likely ran far away.

She had no weapons and no escape, yet the unfamiliar voice whispering in the back of her head told her to get up. Get up, get up and fight with everything she had, her bare hands if need be.

The hopelessness she felt did nothing to quell it and without even realising it, she was up and swaying on her feet.

"I… am not.. dying here…" She wheezed, forcing the words through her tender throat. It hurt her stomach to talk.

The voice sparked something to life that pooled like liquid fire in her aching belly – something monumental that bubbled in her chest as she glared at him. Her nostrils flared as she shook and her fists clenched.

It had been so long since she last trained but she finally allowed herself to recognise the feeling of what her uncle called 'the thrill'. That sensation just before someone is about to kill you when everything becomes clear. Uncle Jaime said it caused some people to freeze and got them killed – but that if she should ever be in such a situation, she should use it. Let her mind race and her body move faster, use it to push herself further and  _survive_.

Everything came into focus. He was one man with a sword. He wasn't even wearing proper armour. How many times had she sparred with uncle in his full armour before he stopped teaching her? Too many times to count and he was unforgiving. He never once let her win – every blow she landed, she earned with stretched muscles and sweat drenched clothes.

The satisfaction at his pride when she managed to hit him, when she successfully countered one of his attacks at full speed – that had driven her then, but living would have to drive her now.

"I won't… let you kill… me."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

He drew back his sword and she braced herself against the pain to move. This would not be her death.

The only warning either of them got was the ground shaking.

Her attacker seemed to gurgle before his head flew from his shoulders and fell to the grass with an anticlimactic thump.

"Princess! Are you alright?" Ser Preston of the Kingsguard shouted from atop his horse.

His eyes scanned the surrounding forest before he rode towards her, sheathing his bloody blade.

Hazy relief flooded her.

The 'thrill' drained away as quickly as it came and left behind more pain than she expected.

Ser Preston's white cloak entranced her as it billowed in the wind and with each flutter the throbbing in her head returned louder and harder. Her stomach clenched in agony and each unsteady breath she took caused her ribs to ache fiercely, while the right side of her face stung all the way around to her lip.

She could taste blood.

Vision began to blur and she felt herself lurch. The ground grew closer but a pair of strong arms caught her before she landed in a heap.

"You're safe now, princess. Your grace!"

Just as her eyes slipped closed, she saw a group of men gallop into the clearing.

Her last thought was that it was the first time she had ever been happy to see the fury on her father's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that was an exciting one, wasn't it? Rohanne has a lot to learn about the real world.
> 
> I hope it turned out well - I'd love to hear your thoughts on the fight scene especially.
> 
> I'll see you all next Wednesday with a new update! The next chapter will be a Cersei POV.


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